


Pieces

by AuroraRoseane



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cop! Maggie, Cop! Martinez, Detective! Daryl, Detective! Michonne, Detective! Tyreese, F/M, Lawyer! Andrea, Minor Character Death, Minor Daryl Dixon/ Andrea, Minor Rick Grimes/Michonne, Mortician! Bob, Murder Mystery, Sheriff! Rick, Somebody's a'killing in Senoia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:19:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8071309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraRoseane/pseuds/AuroraRoseane
Summary: Sovay Martin gets a call from an old friend begging her to visit a small town in Georgia. There she finds not only her friend, but a past she's been running from. Detective Daryl Dixon and his partner Rick Grimes discover a body on the edge of town, and get wrapped up in something much bigger than they'd expected.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking this out! Pieces was originally posted on FF.net, but I'm currently in the process of rewriting. I love hearing feedback, so let me know what you think!
> 
> xoxo Rora

Sovay Martin looked around at the sparse colonial style buildings, the single stop light and the people taking a Sunday stroll. _Small town America it is then._

When she’d received the call late last night she didn’t expect Sam to sound so…together. Which was quite horrible of her really, and yet not quite as horrible as thinking he was dead in a ditch somewhere, like she had been thinking. Actually, she was rather relieved by the call, finally knowing for a fact that her best friend was somewhere safe and unharmed. But her relief was turned to surprise when, not only did Sam tell her exactly where was, but that he _needed_ to see her. Immediately. 

It’s not what Sovay would normally do late on a Saturday night, but did the only logical thing that a girl could do in her situation. She hung up the phone, packed a small bag with a few days worth of clothes, grabbed her wallet, phone and keys, an headed out the door. She threw everything into her old beat up Chevy and took off, typing _Senoia, Georgia_ into the GPS on her phone as she drove towards the on-ramp of the highway. But that was yesterday, and after a 7 hours drive through the night featuring what she’s sure is an unhealthy amount of 5-hour energy shots, she stood outside her hooptie, completely exhausted, slightly annoyed, and anxious to see Sam.

She stood there looking at her surroundings, wondering which direction she should try first. And really, there was only 2 paths to chose from, walking straight into what looked like downtown, and behind her, which led back out of town. Because apparently when Sam says small town, he _means_ small town. She took a second look and sighed aloud. This is so _not_ going to work. Her phone rang and she looked down to see a familiar number across the screen. _Sam._

"Where the hell are you? Where the hell am I?" she said loudly. A few people in the street turned to give her a dirty look. 

A chuckle came from the other end. "You're on Main Street. I can see you from here." 

She looked around quickly, finally noticing her friend waving wildly at her from inside a diner window about a block away. Closing the phone, she stepped off the curb and crossed the street, heading straight for the small restaurant. When she opened the glass door and walked inside she was hit with a gust of cool air, giving her a chill. _These people certainly appreciate their air conditioning_ , she thought. You can’t really blame them though; Georgia in the height of summer can be killer. 

She’s soon wrapped up in a tight hug by a friend she hadn’t seen in over a year. “Sovie. God I missed you.”

Up close Sovay could see the differences a year had made on her friend. His hair was longer, but well groomed, and lighter, as if he’d spent a lot of time in the sun, seconded but the dark tan on his skin. He’d also noticeably put on some weight, which made him look truly healthy for the first time since they were children. She pulled back from his grasp to look into his face, seeing nothing of his mental status, but the bright smile plastered there. This concerned her. “Sam, where the fuck have you been? What happened? Why did you call?”

The smile on his face fell then, just a bit, but enough so that she noticed. “We need to talk.”

* * *

Detective Grimes wiped a hand over his face and looked up from the scene in front of him. In all his years, he’d never seen something like this, and was sure he never wanted to again. The poor girl was left in pieces. Literal pieces, and put back together wrong, twisted, upside down and sown back together. The only part of her in the correct place was her head but her mouth was open in a silent scream. He wasn’t going to be having a peaceful night’s sleep for awhile.

He didn’t recognize her which was both a blessing and a curse. It meant it wasn’t someone he knew, and he knew everyone in the small town. But that meant that someone or something brought her here, and that person or thing could still be around. 

He was pulled from his musings by the roar of a motorcycle as his partner pulled onto the scene. Detective Daryl Dixon had been with the Georgia State Police for more than a decade with three years undercover in vice, before transferring back to his hometown of Senoia. Sheriff

Grimes hired him on the spot, despite the infamy surrounding the Dixon name. He had moved to town after Daryl left in a cloud of dust following his brother Merle’s latest and most severe conviction, and Rick had only heard good things from his contacts in the Georgia State Police. Plus, the department was a man down after Rick’s former partner, Shane Walsh, was forced to ‘retire’ early. 

Despite not knowing each other for very long the pair were two of  the highest rated detectives in the state. They had more arrests, closed cases and convictions than any other partnership, not to mention that they quickly became best friends. Brothers, even.

The leaves crunched under his boots as strode up to stand next to his partner, and Rick took in Daryl’s usual apparel, a look that had always let him blend in so well while working vice. Long messy hair, unshaven face, flannel, vest, old jeans and boots; the exact opposite of the State Police’s minimum standards. It took a few weeks after being assigned to work together for Rick to realize that this was Dixon’s normal style, not just part of an act that he was having a hard time to shake. This also applied to the man’s terse attitude, which was probably why no one ever complained about his clothing or choice of vehicle.

“Got ‘nthing?” He man was gruff and to the point, not caring for niceties or small talk, something Grimes could respect. It’s part of what made Daryl so believable undercover. He looked the part, spoke and acted it, sometimes he even smelt it. He didn’t care about appearances, he never had and probably never would. It’s part of what made him such a good cop.

“Nah. Greene’s workin’ on a ID, M.E.’s on his way.” Grimes inclined his head off towards the brunette sitting in a patrol car, speaking animatedly on her cell phone.

“Hmph.” He shifted his feet and grimaced at the sight before him. “Tha’s some nasty shit.”

Rick nodded in agreement. He didn’t know much about the other man’s past cases, but he was fairly certain that this one the worst that either of them had seen. “Got any ideas?”

“Nah. Ne’r seen nuthin’ this fucked up.” He shifted again, clearly uncomfortable by the sight. “Rookie! C’mon then! I ain’t got all day!”

Maggie Greene came running up from the patrol car she’d been sitting in, notebook in hand, a frown spoiling her usual chipper face. “Dixon, Rick,” she said in leu of a proper greeting. “Her name’s Sophia Peletier, aged 19. Mother re—“

“Peletier?” Rick asked, “Why’s that sound familiar?”

Daryl scoffed and shook his head. “Peletier’s tha’ ol’ fuck we got call’d ou’ fo’ ‘bout 9 mon’h’s ‘go in ‘Lanta. Wife beater got outta tha joint, got ‘imself kilt ina bar fight a day later.”

The detective nodded his head, remembering when he and Daryl notified the older woman, Carol, about her deceased husband, and how relived she looked at the news. He doubted it would be the same situation when they told her of her daughter’s death.

Maggie looked between the 2 men wondering if they we finished strolling down memory lane before she continued. “So anyway, her mother reported her missing two days ago from Atlanta.”

“Tha hell she doin’ ‘ere then?” Senoia was nearly an hour away by car.

“Don’t know. Her mother said she’d been out with friends the night before at a party at one of the frat houses at Georgia State. Friends said she was there one minute, gone the next. Thought she’d just left with someone until the couldn’t reach her the next day.”

Daryl half growled, half sighed. “Damn college girls.”

Rick nodded his head in agreement. “Daryl, you and I will go talk to the mother, see what we can find out. Maggie, you and Martinez stay here and wait for Bob, see if he can give you a time of death. We’ll call Tyreese and ‘Chonne on the road, have them interview the friends.”

The team acknowledged their consent and split up to perform their tasks. Rick opened the door to his 4-door pickup as Daryl swung his leg over his bike. “I got a feeling this one’s going to be messy.”

* * *

Sam ushered her to sit, and refused to answer her until the waitress had come and gone, no order placed but coffee and lots of it. But once the woman had turned her back he leaned in close with a quiet and excited voice. “Something happened, So.”

The words instantly made her frown and her heart race. “What do you mean, ‘Something happened’?” Her eyes scanned his face for the second time that day, looking for clues. “Are you off your meds?”

The man chuckled and smirked at his old friend. He really had changed in the last year. He looked happier. “Of course I am, you know how those things make me feel. It’s nothing bad, I swear.” He grinned even wider. “I met someone, Sovie. She’s—”

“You…met someone,” she interrupted and he nodded vigorously. “You met someone,” she repeated. “You disappear for over a year, and when you finally call me up, telling me that I have to drop everything and drive to the middle of nowhere, it’s because you _met someone_?!” She was furious. Of all the images she’d stored away in her head of this reunion, all the circumstances that would bring her best friend back to her after all this time, never would she have guessed that it would have to do with Sam’s love life. His freakin’ _love life_. Unbelievable. 

The smile slipped from his face and he looked at her with hard eyes. “She’s not just _someone_ , So, she’s _everything_. She makes me feel alive again and I want you to meet her.”

She barely breathed out “Sam—,” before he cut her off.

“No! No. It’s important, she’s important, and you have to—you _have_ to meet her, Sovie, you have to.” He looked nervous finally, for the first time since she’d arrived. This must be pretty damn important to him, she figured.

She sighed again, her gaze slipping down as she shook her head. “Ok Sammy, I’ll meet her. What’s her name?” She never stood much of a chance when it came to him.

His smile got even bigger, bigger than she’d seen in a long time. “Beth. Her name is Beth Greene, and I’m going to ask her to marry me.” 

* * *

She checked into the town’s only hotel, a tiny bed and breakfast run by a talkative old man named Dale and his granddaughter Amy. By the time she finally made it upstairs to her room, she’d heard all about the history of the place, how Dale opened the B&B with his late wife shortly after they were married, raised their kids there, and then their two granddaughters. Amy’s older sister was some fancy lawyer up in Atlanta, and Amy herself was studying business at the community college.

She’d learned more than she needed to—definitely much more—but she was raised to be polite and that’s what she’d be, always. Sovay Martin was her mother’s daughter and manners would be kept.

The first thing she did when she entered the room was to flop down on the bed. She stared up at the ceiling and went over the events of the last 24 hours in her head. Waking up after a late night waitressing at the bar, and trying to figure out if she had enough money to pay her _very_ overdue rent yet. Then the seven hour drive from Louisville to nowhere Senoia took just about everything she had, especially since she’d hardly slept the night before. Crazy ex-boyfriends would do that to you. You’d think that being locked up would slow him down at least a little, but no, not Tomas. Sovay sure knew how to pick ‘em.

Getting out of town was just what she needed, even if it happened more suddenly than she would’ve liked. Still, it was probably a blessing in disguise that Sam had finally called her. When he’d left without a word more than a year before she was certain that something had happened. Sure, he wasn’t the most dependable or reliable person, but he’d never just left like that. And especially not without his meds.

Sam was diagnosed as severely bipolar with a mild case of depression and what looked like to be the beginnings of schizophrenia towards the end of his freshman year of college, and he was fine, most of the time, as long as he took his meds. Now four years later, she didn’t know what to expect when she saw him, not since he’d gone a year without.

She replayed the conversation they’d had in her mind as she lay there, parts of the old Sam shining through. She learned that he’d come here nearly six months ago, and only stopped because the car he had broke down. It was the middle of the night, so no auto repair shop for the moment, and walked into the diner where we had sat. He said his eyes found her as soon as he crossed the threshold. 

Beth Greene, the most beautiful girl in the world. She’s only 18, only just graduated this past June but he didn’t care and neither did she. Suddenly he had a reason to stay a little longer. 

They quit sneaking around three months ago and he met her parents, her family. When he talked about his he only mentioned Sovie, and she knew all about his diagnosis. Apparently she’s helping him, wants to study medicine after her tour at Georgia State. He says the age difference doesn’t bother him as much as you’d think. _It’s only 6 years,_ he said. She didn’t want to ask him what her father thought.

He asked if she’d stay awhile, if she’d come to meet his new family, his Beth. _Of course,_ she said, _like that’s even a question._ He’d grinned again and she realized how much she’d missed that, missed him. She was tempted to throw it in his face, what losing her best friend felt like, but she decided to wait. _He’s happy now,_ she thought, _let him be happy for awhile longer._

She sat up on the bed, intending to get up and shower before she crashed out for the night, feeling sticky after the long drive, and spending a large part of the day in the Southern heat. She turned on the TV for some background noise and flipped to the news, an old habit she’d picked up from her father. They were just finishing up the weather when they aired a special report. 

“ _A body was found early this morning near Hutchins Lake by some hunters. Senoia’s Police Department have identified the remains as 19-year old Sophia Peletier, who went missing after a Greek house party in Atlanta on Friday night. Police have not said why the girl would be in the area, or if she came of her own volition. They have also refrained from mentioning the manner of her death, whether it be an accident or otherwise. Sheriff Rick Grimes is heading up the investigation, but as of yet, no official comments have been made._ ”

They flashed a picture of the poor girl on the screen, a pretty young brunette with hazel eyes. Sovay’s stomach turned and she bit back the bile rising in her throat. _No, no way._ Her head started spinning and she felt faint, as her heart started racing. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she did. 

This girl was killed by The Preston Street Butcher. She didn’t know why, or how, or why he’d be here, but she was certain. She needed to talk to this Rick Grimes person, right now.


	2. Two

He was tired, more so than he'd been in awhile. Daryl Dixon has never been much of a good sleeper, a fact even more pronounced when he was on a case. Which happened to be almost all the time. And he had a feeling this one wouldn't be a simple open-and-shut. You don't just dump a body like that and have that be the end of it. _No_ , Daryl thought, _this ones gunna be messy._

With less sleep than he'd like, he pulled his bike into the lot at the station and walked indoors, he lifted his head in greeting to the new kid, Zach, manning the front desk and passed by the elder Greene sister who was holding out a cup of coffee for him. He'd known the Greenes for many years, his father rolling with Hershel Greene back in the day, and later, the old man saving Daryl from himself. Despite his last name, Hershel had given the man a chance when few other would, and had eventually accepted him into the family. Sure, Daryl would give Maggie shit on a daily basis about her work at the station, but he was the one who got her accepted to the police academy in the first place, and quietly requested that she be placed in homicide with him, so he could keep and eye on her. 

He was the same with the other two Greene children, bring known to interrogate each of Bethy's new boyfriends, and check in with Shawn's CO at Fort Benning on a regular basis. Not that he'd ever admit to any of it. 

They were more of a family to him than his blood had ever been, and with Merle in prison again, the only family he'd have for quite some time. Which is why he got a bit concerned when he saw Beth's latest conquest sitting in one of the chairs outside Ricks office. Sure, the guy was kind of squirrelly, and he was a 25 year old man dating an 18 year old girl, but Daryl didn't think he was all that bad of a guy. Certainly strange, but not bad. 

For a second he worried that something had happened to the girl he thought of as his baby sister, but knew Maggie would've had a different greeting this morning if that'd been the case. 

He slowed his steps, stopping near the desk of Caesar Martinez and nodded towards the sitting man. "Wha's Blondie's whippin' boy doin' 'ere?"

The officer grinned at the rednecks question and chuckled. He was the first one at the station to take to Daryl's, well, _everything_ , hardly even blinking at the mans rough way of doing and saying, even dressing, everything. "Came in with some girl demanding to talk to Grimes and no one else. Wouldn't say why. Been waiting for almost an hour."

He looked around the small building but didn't see anyone loitering around. But just as he was turning back to face Martinez he heard the aggravating squeak of the needed-to-be-oiled bathroom door, and out walked something he wasn't expecting. 

She wasn't his type, not anywhere near it, those women being half drunk bar sluts he'd pick up every once in awhile when he felt the need. Those woman were scantily clad and wore too much makeup, and most of them, thankfully, left first thing in he morning without so much as a goodbye. If they even slept over at all. This girl, though, this girl was something else entirely. 

She was Maggie's age, maybe a few years younger, with dark brown eyes, full red lips and looks that can only be classified as natural beauty. None of that fabricated bullshit those bar women forced upon themselves. This girl was all real.

The first thing he noticed as his eyes swept over her was the way she walked, dignified and strong like she knew she owned the place and the audience within. Her long mahogany brown hair reached her waist and swayed with her steps, taken with a pair of black mid calf combat boots, leading up to a pair of grey skinny jeans and then a cream colored top. His observant yes picked up in the few pieces of jewelry she was wearing, all expensive looking, and despite the way she dressed, he knew she was more than just another hipster kid. Yeah, he'd bet that she grew up with money, and had the confidence to go with it. But a quick look to her face told him that it was all for show. She was putting up a front, but she was nervous as hell and looking all over the place, searching for someone or something. 

Her eyes eventually found his and blue met brown in a clash of defiance. Both of them refused to look away, to back down, and it wasn't until Beth's boy toy called to her that she tore her gaze from his. Daryl Dixon didn't know much about women, and much less about women clearly out of his league, but he did know one thing about this girl. _She's got secrets._

* * *

She had called Sam after she woke up that morning, clearly waking him in the process, and asked him to tell her where she could find this Rick Grimes. _I'll do even better,_ he said. _I'll show you._ So here they were, not even 8AM, sitting in a police station waiting for the man.

She was fidgety, that was for sure, trying not to think about the last time she sat in a place like this. She drummed her fingers, twirled her hair, picked at her fingernails until Sam gave her a look, one that said _"You sure I'm the crazy one?"_ So she stopped and got up to go to the bathroom. Maybe a cool splash of water would help. 

She did that, the exited the small space and took a look around the room looking for an unfamiliar face that could be Rick Grimes. Instead she met with a steel blue that almost knocked the air from her lungs and she froze, until Sam's voice pulled her away. She gave the strange man a once over, deciding he must be getting questioned. _No way that guy is a cop, no other reason to be here. Unless you're me,_ she thought. 

She say back down next to Sam, crossing then us crossing her legs, the decision to quit her fussing forgotten. She ran a hand through her hair. She needs to get it cut. 

"You're overreacting." She turned her head to give her friend a dirty look, but he continued. "Seriously. There's no way it's him. You can't just go around claiming every dead girl has something to do with Preston."

She sighed. "I don't say every girl is, just this one. And since when am I ever wrong?"

He opened his oath to protest but was cut off by a looming shadow. The pair looked up to see Detective Dixon frowning down at them. "Sam," he said nodding at the man. "Heard ya got sumthin' ya gotta tell Grimes?"

Sam shook his head. "Nope, this is all her," he said pointing his thumb. Daryl grunted. 

"You're Rick Grimes?" she asked while giving him a once-over. He was a wearing a pair of work boots and black jeans that had clearly seen better days, with holes and what looked like grease covering them. North of them he had on an old flannel with the sleeves ripped off with a leather vest covering it. His brown hair, shaggy and clearly uncombed. _There is no way this guy is a cop._

Sam laughed. “Ha. No, this is Daryl. He’s one of Beth’s brothers. This is Sovie. She worships me.”

This time it was her turn to scoff, but she said nothing. There was a time in the childhood when this was true, when she’d follow her friend around their neighborhood, doing whatever her hero would do. But that was a long time ago and very many things had changed since then.

Daryl just looked at her and made no comment. “C’mon then. Rick’ll be ‘ere soon.” He turned away and opened the door to Rick’s office, walking in. The pair of friends followed and the detective motioned for them to take a seat, although he remained standing. “Ya gunna tell me wha’ this is ‘bout then?” he asked looking at her once again.

“I’d rather wait.” They continued to stare each other down, as Sam shifted in his seat uncomfortably, until Rick walked through the door a few minutes later.

“Hi,” he said. “Hey Sam.” He nodded towards the man before turning back to Sovay, whose eyes were still locked with the other detective’s. “Maggie said you needed to speak with me.”

When she finally tore her gaze away to face Rick. _Now that’s more like it,_ she thought. He had _cop_ written all over him. “It’s about that girl, Sophia Peletier.” He nodded for her to continue, so she did. “I know who killed her.”


	3. Three

Sam rolled his eyes and failed to suppress a groan, throwing himself back to lean in the chair lazily. "Don't be so dramatic, So. She doesn't _know_ who did it," he explained turning to look at the two men "she just thinks it might be related to something else, which its not, because that would be ridiculous. Right Sovie?" he asked, facing back towards his friend. 

She just glared at the man. "It's him. I know it."

The two detectives looked at her, then to each other and back at her before Rick spoke. "Why don't you explain."

Sam moved to open his mouth again but Daryl gave him a look, and he promptly closed it. It's not that he was afraid of the older man. He would never admit that. He just knew enough not to get on Daryl Dixon's bad side. 

Sovay looked the man up and down again before she spoke. "She was ripped apart, right? And put back together?"

"How tha' fuck'd ya know that?" Daryl said as he stood from his relaxed position, taking a step towards her. 

She looked at him incredulously. "I told you. I know who did it." 

"And who would that be?" Rick asked, as calm as ever. She could tell he was gaging her, just as she did to him before. He was trying to decide if she could be trusted, if she was a fake, or just another kind of crazy. It wasn't the first time her sanity had been questioned and it probably wouldn't be the last. 

She answered, her eyes never leaving his. "The Preston Street Butcher."

Rick quirked his eyebrow. "And that is...?"

Her face falls for a minute, just for a second, but both he and his partner caught it. Just a flash of her eyes, a memory. A painful one. "Eleven bodies in three years on and around the UofL campus in Louisville. He killed my roommate." 

"Kentucky?" the man asked. 

"Tha' hell 'e doin' here?"

"He's not," Sam injected. "He's dead, So, you know that." 

"No! No I don't Sam! They never found a body, remember? Or were you just so happy to leave without a word and forget everything?" 

The detectives watched the pair argue, and Daryl took a closer look at the both of them. He'd always had the feeling like Bethy's man was hiding something, running, and now it was confirmed that he was right. She, on the other hand, was still hiding something. He could feel it in the air, and one look to his partner told him that he felt it too. She didn't seem like she'd be a suspect, but it wouldn't be the first time he was surprised. "How'd ya know this'n's the same? How'd ya know 'bout tha' body?" He interrupted. 

She blinked at him like she was surprise he was asking. "I just do."

"Nobody just 'knows' something like this," Rick said, also curious. "Were you at the crime scene?" 

Sam groaned and Sovay spoke. "No, of course not. I just saw it on the news last night."

"Ya sure? 'Cuz shit li' tha' don' happen 'round 'ere, 'n yer tha' only stranger we seen 'round." 

She furrowed her brows, annoyed by the interrogation. "I only just got here yesterday afternoon, and my guess is she was dead for a whole day before y'all found her. I was in Kentucky yesterday. If you don't believe me check my credit cards. And look up Preston Street while you're at it." She stood. "Let's go Sam."

The younger man stood and smiled that the officers sheepishly and shrugged, before following his friend out the door. 

The remaining men looked at each other and without a word, agreed on their next course of action. 

* * *

She stormed out of the station and threw open the driver's door of her sedan before turning back towards Sam. "They don't believe me, do they?"

He looked at her dubiously and then shook his head. "Pretty sure you're a suspect now though." She sighed loudly and he went on. "Sovie, he's dead. You shot him, remember? People don't usually survive a shot to the chest." 

She shook her head. "I shot him in a dark room in the middle of the night. The police never found a body, or blood for that matter. He's still out there. I know it"

This time it was his turn to sigh. 

* * *

"Got it," the woman said, stepping into the office. Michonne Pierson was another new transfer to the homicide department of the Georgia State Police, originating from Boston, but like her teammates, she took to the job quickly and efficiently. It wasn't often that she and her partner, longtime GSP detective Tyreese Williams, paired up with Grimes and Dixon, but this case definitely warranted it. It was unlike anything any of them had ever seen."I remembered reading something about it in the news a few months ago. The Preston Street Butcher killed 11 women between June of 2012 and December of this past year. All were early 20s brown hair, olive skin, 8 of them were students at the University of Louisville. All of them were the same M.O. Torn apart and sewn back together wrong. Locals had a few suspects but no positive ID. The killing stopped in December after a civilian shot at a figure fleeing from her room at a sorority house on campus. Report says that he was shot in the chest but got away. Despite the lack of trace evidence or blood, or even a body they declared him dead and closed the case. No bodies since then."

Daryl huffed. "'Til now." The others nodded. 

"What about the girl?" Rick asked. 

"That's where it gets interesting," Michonne smirked. "Sovay Martin, aged 23, born and raised in small town Grabil, Indiana before moving to Louisville for college. No priors, just one speeding ticket when she was 17. She was the one who apparently shot The Butcher." 

Rick quirked his eyebrow. "You don't say?" 

She nodded. "Report says that she was coming home from a late night study session with friends when she walked in on him placing her roommate's body back in her bed. He slashed her pretty good, her abdomen, before she pulled a gun and fired twice into his chest. The other girls in the house heard the commotion and came running but when they arrived there was no man and only Martin's blood on the floor. Police questioned her but she says she didn't get a good look at his face because it was dark."

The men processed the information and Rick asked another question. "How's she know Sam?"

This time Daryl answered. "'E's from Grabil too. Wen' ta Lou'ville two years 'fore droppin' out. Small town. Prolly knew e'other growin' up." The others looked at him quizzically. "Wha? 'E's datin' Beth. Backgroun' check's first thin' I did," he said grinning and the other shook their heads. 

* * *

She was expecting them to come, but she didn’t think it would be this soon. She’d just gotten back from a quick lunch with Sam when they knocked, and she called out for them to come in as she sat down to take off her boots. In walked the two men from this morning, Grimes and Dixon, if she remembered right. And she doesn’t forget much. “Officers. Can I help you with something?”

The detectives glared at her with no-nonsense in their eyes. “You failed to mention your personal stake in this case this morning, Miss Martin. I don’t like being lied to.”

She frowned and glared right back. “I don’t remember lying. I told you that he killed my roommate. It’s not my fault that you don’t know how to ask the right questions.”

“Insignifcant infamation’s same as lyin’ ’n a murder investagation.” Daryl added, but she just continued to glare.

Rick sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Why don’t you just tell us what you know, Miss Martin. You clearly know more about this Preston Butcher than we do.”

She quirked her lip up just a bit and huffed out some air. “A cop admitting he doesn’t know something? Somebody better call the Pope ‘cause this here’s a miracle.” The men continued their stare and she looked between them both before settling her eyes on the rough man. “Alright. What do you want to know?”


	4. Four

She didn't know where to begin, not exactly. She could start at the beginning, but her beginning began closer to the end of the full story, and she didn't think they'd want to miss out on those details. On the other hand, she had no claim to the other victims' tales. It wouldn't be right for her to try and explain those girls, because she was not them, and they were not her. They were gone and she is not. 

Sovay looked across the room to the two men, one sitting in the desk chair across from the bed where she sat cross legged, and the other feigning relaxation by leaning against the wall, both sets of eyes on her. So she began to tell them the story of how her life changed forever, her own eyes meeting intense blue ones hiding behind a mat of shaggy hair. "My ex took the breakup hard, so much so that he began stalking me a bit. Calling all the time, in the middle of the night, or popping up in places he'd never bothered being before. But I just tried ignoring him and move on. That's why we didn't think anything of it when things started getting weird. We thought it was just Tomas taking it up a notch. But..."

She trailed off for a moment, allowing Rick to slide in with his first question. "Why'd you break up?"

Her eyes flicked to his in confusion, wondering why he'd bother asking that. It wasn't necessary to finding The Butcher, but she answered him anyway. "I walked in on him making a deal with one of his sellers. Turns out, I spent a year of my life dating one of the biggest drug and gun runners in the Midwest."

"Tomas Suarez?" the grungy man asked. "Ain't he got 25 for possession 'n 'tempted murder?"

She nodded. "He was arrested but then stuff kept happening. Notes left around the house or in our room, sometimes gifts, flowers and stuff, sometimes jewelry. Personal items missing. So when he was put away we realized it wasn't him. We just assumed...didn't even occur to is that it was about Kelsey. I just thought he was either trying to get me back or keep me quiet."

Rick spoke again. "So you didn't report any stalking to the police?"

She huffed. "He was a professional criminal with millions in drugs and guns on the line. I would've disappeared before my car even left the station's parking lot." 

The men nodded thoughtfully. "Where's all tha' shit at?"

"Threw it away. Didn't see a point in keeping it at the time. Except for the jewelry. I pawned it and gave the money to this fundraiser they were having on campus. Something about the art departments." 

"What about from after Tomas was arrested?"

She looked down then, her hands fiddling with the ends of her shirt. "There weren't any. He got picked up on Tuesday and she was dead by Friday."

"But you said strange things were still happening."

She met the detectives eyes again then, and he could see the emotions swimming there, that she really hadn't wanted them to see. "Things kept disappearing. Pictures we had in the room, a couple of notebooks, underthings," she said with a blush rising to her cheeks, "one of my necklaces,--"

"Yer necklace?" Dixon cut in, and she nodded again. 

"I lent it to her when she went on a date a few days before Tomas was arrested. My aunt gave it to me as a graduation present."

"Wha'd it loo' li'?"

"Um. Silver, diamonds in a rectangle setting. There's a picture of me wearing it somewhere in the case file. I gave it to the police when..." they could see that she was forcing herself to say the words, "when she died. When she was killed."

The men took a few minutes to collect their thought before sharing a look, and then Rick started his questioning again. It was amazing how much they could tell each other in just a quick look, even after only a short time of working together. They agreed that she was still hiding something, but Daryl didn't think she was lying. You couldn't ask him why, but he didn't doubt her story. She still had secrets, however. Rick was a little more skeptical, but he trusted his partner, trusted his gut, and would see where the rest of this conversation would take them. He had a strong feeling that this wouldn't be their last. 

"That sounds like an awfully expensive necklace to be lending out," he said prudently. 

"She was my best friend," she said before she paused and look back down into her lap. "We were roommates for two years in the sorority house, and lived across the hall from each other before that. We did everything together, parties, clubs, classes. She was majoring in psychology and that had a lot of overlay with education majors. There was at least one class a semester we shared. We'd go home with each other on holidays and breaks. She practically lived at my house last summer when her parents were splitting up. There's no one I trusted more. There's no one who knew me more than her except maybe..."

Curiosity rose in both men then, wondering why she chose to drift off. "Than who?" Rick asked. 

"Sam," she said, lifting her head again. "I've known him forever. He's basically family."

Rick nodded and Daryl just gave a small smirk, glad to know that his assumptions were right. "Take it 'e's tha' reason yer 'ere then?"

She shifted her head from one man to the other nodding. "He called, finally. Said there was something important he needed to tell me. In person. So I drove down, and now here we are."

Daryl's eyebrow shot up. "'E called ya 'bout tha murder 'fore i' 'appened?"

"No," she denied, "he wanted to tell me about Beth. I guess he's going to ask her to marry him." 

This bristled both men quite a bit. Beth Greene was like a little sister to Daryl, and a daughter to Rick. They were fine with her dating whoever, as long as he checked out, but marrying some tourist she'd only known a few months? Especially when she was only 18 and the man in question was quite a bit older? There was no way either men were going to let that happen. 

"That so?"

"Mhm," she nodded. "That's what he says."

The men shared yet another look, completely unsure on whether to believe her story or not for once. So they chose to stare her down for a minute or two, to see if she'd get uncomfortable and crack. What they weren't expecting was for her to sit there and stare right back. Either she was telling the truth, or she was a phenomenal liar. 

"So your telling me, you dropped everything and drove to a town in the middle of nowhere, based on a call from an old friend, and when you arrived you found out about a suspected murder that happened to have similarities with another set of murders, from the town in which you live, also to which you are closely connected, not only as a friend of a victim, but as a potential suspect, and the only thing in your favor is a story about a stalker that can neither be confirmed or denied due to lack of any sort of evidence to collaborate your story, and the only other witness was the victim you are suspected of killing. Do I have that right?"

She took a moment to study the men. They didn't seem like complete idiots, which was a surprise to find in a small town like this. But as she knew, looks could be deceiving. Nevertheless, she decided that for the time being, she's cooperate. At least until they gave her a reason not to. So she nodded. "In a word, yes, that's correct."

Rick gave her another look, head to toe. She certainly didn't look like a killer. But she sure as hell didn't look like a victim either. He looked to his partner who was doing the same thing, however Daryl had a look in his eyes that Rick had never seen before on Daryl. Something similar to pure curiosity with an undertone of wonder. _This'll be interesting,_ he thought to himself. 

"Well alright then. Looks like we're going to need those old case files."


	5. Five

The front door to the small bed & breakfast hadn't even latched behind them before Detective Grimes was dialing his phone. First he called Maggie, asking her to track down Michonne and Tyreese, then asking her to contact Louisville PD about the Preston Street murders. Next he called and left a voicemail for Bob Stookey, asking for the autopsy report ASAP. He knew that was going to take awhile though, with how she'd been maimed. By the time he was finished with his message, Michonne was returning his call, and he asked her to do an even deeper background check on both Sovay Martin and Sam Keyes. Both of them were hiding something. He also asked about Tomas Suarez. Any little thing could help. 

He glanced over at his partner, not at all surprised to find the man deep in thought. He guessed, though, that for once, his mind wasn't focusing on the case. Not exactly. 

It was curious to him, really. In the year and some that he'd known Daryl Dixon, he'd never seen the man ever give a woman a second glance. To be honest, Rick thought that maybe his partner was gay even, but watching him watch Miss Martin threw those thoughts out the window. Alas, as much as he wanted to know what was running through his friend's mind at the moment, there was a case that needed solving. 

"Something on your mind Daryl?" he asked, pulling open the drivers door to his pickup. 

The other man scratched at his chin and nodded, opening the passenger door before leaning on it. "Mhm. Sumthin' ain't righ'. She ain't lyin' but she ain't tellin' tha' truth neither." He paused for a moment. "Cain't figger 'er out."

Rick gave a low chuckle before ducking his head and climbing into the truck. "That'll be a first."

* * *

The first thing she did when she shut the door behind them was to lean against it and let out a loud sigh. This trip was already become far more exhausting than she'd planned. She crossed the room and picked up her phone that she'd been ignoring. It'd gone off a few times while the detectives were in here questioning her, but she figured that if it was something important it would have gone off far more.

The first missed call was from the prison Tomas was locked up in. Lord only knows what he wanted, but she wasn't going to take anymore of his calls, not after he pulled that stunt with some of his hired men two days ago. It's amazing that even behind bars he can mess with her life. The second was from her mother, and then another from the prison. _Ugh,_ she thought, _can't he take a hint?_

She also had a few texts from Sam about dinner later. Apparently Beth had gone and invited the both of them over to her family's home later that night. _Great. Just what I need right now._ She did want to meet this Godsend of a girl, just maybe not now, after the day she'd already had. _Nothing that a good nap can't fix,_ she thought as she flopped down onto the bed and closed her eyes. 

* * *

"You didn't mention the sealed record earlier, Dixon." Michonne barely looked up from the file she was reading as the men walked in. "Samuel Keyes has a juvenile record," she explained to Rick and looking up at him as she finished reading whatever it was she was reading. 

"Yah. And?" the rough man asked. "Who ain't got'a juvie record? Pretty sure ev'one in thi' room has on'."

"I don't," Tyreese threw in. "My mama wouldn't kilt me if I woulda soured my name like that."

Daryl huffed. "Lucky you. Ma mama wa' already dead," he said in a deadpan. The group had already known each other long enough to know that he didn't mean anything by it, and he sure as hell didn't want any sympathy for it. He just liked silencing a room. Unfortunately for him, because they knew each other so well, they just ignored him and moved on.

"What about Sovay? Anything else on her?" Rick asked. 

"Not as far as I can tell," answered Tyreese. "Smart kid, 'A' student, worked a couple of jobs to help with school. Always quit, never fired. Boss, professors all got good things to say before she left. Sor--"

"She quit school?" Rick cut in. 

"Yeah," Michonne replied, "about a month after her roommate died, near the end of her first semester, fourth year. She was all set to graduate in May, Dean's List and everything. Guess she couldn't handle it after all the publicity." 

"Huh?" 

Tyreese looked pointedly at Daryl. "Somehow the media got wind that she could be a suspect. She started getting harassed. A lot. She dropped out of school and pretty much went silent until now. She's got a PO Box listed in Louisville so I guess she stayed close, but no permanent address. Coulda been living anywhere."

"She does have a restraining order out," Michonne added, "against that guy, Tomas Suarez though, from about a month before the roommate died. And she filed a missing person's report a year before that. Guess who?"

"Sam," Daryl threw in. "'Member wha' she sai' th'mornin', 'bou 'im jus' leaven' wi' no word?"

Rick nodded and Michonne confirmed before continuing. "Another thing, on the MPR, she said he needed to be found because he probably wouldn't be taking his medications."

"Meds?" Rick looked to Daryl. "What meds?"

The man shrugged. "I've ne'r seen 'im take n'thin." He was curious now though, and a little frustrated that he'd missed something. "Ty--"

"Already on it, man. Waiting for a judge to call me back for a medical document release warrant." The other members of the room nodded.

"What about the gun though? Where'd she get it?"

"It was her father's. A 38 cal. He admitted to giving it to her after she'd broken up with Tomas. She didn't tell her parents the full story, but they gathered that he was dangerous," Tyreese said. "He was fined but that was the end of it. Gun is still in lockup. No casings though."

"Why?"

"Cops didn't find any on the scene. Looked everywhere."

Rick shook his head. "No casings, no body, no blood. But the other girls in the house said they heard shots?"

Michonne looked down and scanned the report while speaking to room. "They heard screaming, loud thumping, and what 'could have been muffled gunshots'. There were only 12 other girls in the house at the time, instead of the normal 30. Every single one of them saw Sovay walk in the door around 11:30, and all of them were running up the stairs by 11:45."

"Cud be they's coverin' for 'er. Wouldn' be tha' firs' time tha's happen'd."

"Maybe. But I doubt it. Not all 12 of them," Tyreese said. "Someone would've cracked."

"Not unless she's got something on all of them. Or threatened them?" Michonne added.

"Nah. I don't get that feeling from her," Rick expressed. "I don't think she's as innocent as she seems but I don't think she's a killer. Not this time anyway." 

They all looked over to Daryl as he huffed, reading something off his phone. He lifted his eyes to see the others staring at him with questioning eyes. "It's Beth. Who wan's ta come ta dinner tanigh'?" 


	6. Six

She put on a dress at his insistence. He's lucky she brought it at all, because she almost didn't. But that _Just in Case_ part of her brain was one of the few that hadn't been completely ravaged in the last few years. If anything, it was the best working part of her mind she had left. A Martin wasn't anything if they weren't prepared, and that included spontaneous trips to the middle of nowhere. 

So she showered and put on a fresh set of clothing, a navy dress with a blazer and flats, even dabbed on some makeup before Sam knocked on her door that evening. 

It was funny to her how much Sam wanted her to impress the Greene's. I made a sort of sense though. He talked about them as if they were gods, and she could see that he wanted to join them almost desperately. It was so very un-Sam. But in a good way. Sovay couldn't remember ever seeing him so invested and excited about any people before. Since his diagnosis, and even Berger really, he'd never been a people person. But neither was she. That was why they were so close. It had only just been them, for so long, anyone else seemed strange. 

That's part of the reason why it was so hard for him once he'd started college. There were just so many people, not like their tiny hometown, and so much _noise._ It didn't help that he had a roommate for the first time in his life either, or that he was so far away from everything he knew. She'd probably never understand why he chose the University of Louisville, a school nearly 6 hours away from the place they grew up. And yet she did, sort of. What she did know, was that after he'd made that phone call, when he'd told her about his diagnosis, finally getting answered, she knew she'd have to follow his footsteps. There was no way she'd allow him to be alone. 

And so she went and things were fine for awhile until they weren't. He'd already decided to drop out of school by the time she started her first year. He couldn't handled the stress of it all, but he wanted to stay close. Something in the city drew him in. 

So their friendship went on, hardly any changes, with the exception of Kelsey. It was different with her, than all the other people they'd met. It seemed like she was hardly a stranger at all, and soon she wasn't. The trio was together always, that first year, and all was grand. Until Sovay and Kelsey joined the sorority together and became roommates. 

She didn't know why she did it. Looking back now, it seems so completely out of her comfort zone. And at times it was. But she was there, she was a sister and had a family outside of Sam and her own. She thinks that's what broke him. 

It went south after that. Sam was getting moodier, and kept pulling away, more so than he'd ever done before. Until one night, near the end of what would have been his final year, he snapped. He came storming into the sorority house, screaming his head off about some nonsense. Neither of the girls could understand him, not completely, but they got bits and pieces. He started throwing things around and ended up cutting his arm open, falling and gaining a gash on the head. Someone else in the house called the police, but he was gone before they's arrived, leaving just as suddenly as he'd come. 

And he was gone after that. Really gone. They went by his apartment and called his mother and stepfather. Found out that he'd been off his meds for some time. Kelsey went with her today ole a missing persons report, with no results. She guessed she'd have to cancel that now. 

She was worried when he called. More than worried. It'd been more than a year with nothing and a part of her thought he might have been dead. So when he called, and asked her to come, how could she not? 

And then she was furious, he called her about a girl. _A girl?!_ After so long, that's what he wanted to speak to her about? She had every right to be mad. Until she remembered who she was thinking about. This was Sam after all. He'd never played by convention's rules, and he probably never would. The important thing to remember was that he _did_ call. Finally. Even if it was just about a girl. 

But she was happy for him, of course she was. Who wouldn't want their best friend in the whole world to be happy? 

By the time she finished getting ready, and with her little internal monologue, Sam was knocking on the door, all spruced up himself. He wasted no time hustling her out the door and into his car, starting the engine and taking off before she'd even fastened her seatbelt. He jabbered the whole way about Beth and her family, but she barely listened, choosing to gaze out the window instead. She had to admit that it was a beautiful view, even if she wouldn't ever say it out loud. 

Before she knew it, they were pulling up the long drive to the Greene farm and parking the car. Sam basically jumped from the car and walked around to her door, pulling her out before she was ready, continuing to pull her along as he walked up to the front door of the beautiful white country house. He knocked excitedly and tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for someone to answer. 

She quickly became less happy with her friend as the door opened to reveal a crude detective with a smug look on his face. 

* * *

It was awkward to say the least. She vaguely remembers Sam telling her that Detective Dixon was one of Beth's brothers, but the information had been buried away under all the other facts he'd thrown at her. Not to mention, they have different last names. It wasn't her fault that she hadn't held onto it like she clearly should have.

Sam had just short of pushed her through the open doorway, almost completely ignoring the rough man, save for a slight nod of the head. And he kept pushing her until they reached the kitchen, where an older brunette woman sat peeling peas and another blonde woman stood facing away from them at the sink. When he cleared his throat both women looked towards the pair, the blonde grinning wider than Sovay had ever seen. _This must be Beth,_ she thought _._

She barely had time to take in the girlish woman before she was enveloped in a breathtaking hug. "Oh my gosh!" came an angelic voice, pulling back to look into her face. "I'm so glad I finally get to meet you, Sovay! Sam had told me so much about you!"

Sovay finally got a good look at her then, and it was no wonder Sam was ensnared with her. She had bright blue doe eyes and a doll-like face, surrounded by wild blonde hair. _Oh yeah, Sam is a goner._


	7. Seven

Daryl could sense her unease and he liked it. He saw the way the small smile she'd forced on her face fell, when he'd opened the door. He watched as her anxiety grew when Beth hugged her and overloaded her with her enthusiasm. Saw as it faded just a bit, with Annette's kind face and simple welcome and grew again slightly with the appearance of Hershel. It made him happy, the fact that she was uncomfortable. He was glad that she was on edge. It would show him her true nature. 

To be fair, though, it took him a long time to feel calm in this house. It was so unlike the one he'd grown up in, not only physically but emotionally. He'd never met people like the Greene's before and he doubted that he ever would again. 

Before meeting Hershel and Annette he’d never had a bed, let alone a room of his own. He’d never known what having a full stomach felt like. Before coming to this house, he didn’t know that a reaching hand could result in a gentle touch rather than a slap or punch. He didn’t know that the spectrum of human emotion included things like love, happiness and kindness. He didn’t know that mothers were supposed to hug their children, and worry over their wellbeing. He didn’t know that fathers were supposed to be heroes and mentors. There were a lot of things Daryl didn’t know or have before meeting the Greene’s. 

He wondered if she knew these things, if they were taught to her at a young age, or if she had to learn with time, like he did. He guesses so, her background points to a happy childhood. Daryl gives her another once-over, watching her as she chatted with his family. Pretty blue dress, nice shoes, hair all done up and a hint of makeup. _Yeah,_ he thought, _she’s nothing like me._

She turned towards him then, sensing his stare. Her eyes widened in surprise, as if she wasn’t expecting her gut to be right, and her cheeks reddened a little. He didn’t expect that. The women who looked at him weren’t the blushing type. They were the type to get down on their knees in front of him without even exchanging names and walk away afterwards without so much as a goodbye. They were hardened women with nothing else to lose, because that’s the type he was too. Or, he used to be, once upon a time. He was still hard. He’d just found things to hold onto now.

No, the women who looked at Daryl weren’t the type to blush, but this one was. 

* * *

She felt someone looking at her, she felt it like she could feel her own skin. And she tried not to look, she really did. She tried to focus on what Beth was saying but the girl was blabbering faster than anyone Sovay had ever seen and it didn’t seem like she’d be stopping anytime soon. But when she glanced at Sam and the Greene’s, she realized that this must be a normal thing. So she tried to listen. It just wasn’t working out as well as she hoped. And it didn’t help that she was getting distracted by the feeling of being watched.

She was only going to take a quick look. She really was. It wasn’t her fault that when she did turn her head towards the bearish man, Sovay was taken aback by the look in his eyes. It was like he was reading her, testing her and devouring her all with one stare. It was both terrifying and thrilling, and she couldn’t stop the heat from rushing to her cheeks.

She hoped with everything she had that he didn’t notice it, but of course he did. He noticed everything. It was one of the first things she knew with certainty about him. 

She tried to look away, to hide her embarrassment, but she found that she couldn’t, her eyes locked with his. He looked the same as he had earlier in the day, and yet completely different. He still had on an old flannel and ripped jeans, still had the unkept hair falling in his face and no trace of a smile to be found. While he could fit into a place standing next to Detective Grimes at the bed & breakfast earlier, he looked completely out of place sitting in the Greene’s kitchen. In no way, would she ever imagine a man like him sitting in a room such as this, all white and spacious, clean and decorated, lived in. It looked wrong against his tan skin and grungy appearance. His setting would be in a darkened biker bar, or a cabin in the woods. Not here. Never here.

She realized, as she sat there and took in the man, that he, that his place in this room, was like herself. A dark, looming spot inside of a prettily decorated hollow space.

She was dressed nicely, plastering a smile on her face for these strangers, while the feeling of something _murky_ lingered, creeping around somewhere inside of her desperate to be let out. It wasn’t something new, wasn’t even something she was unfamiliar with. She’d lived with this feeling for most of his life. Sure, it had changed over the years, migrating to different parts of her and changing it’s shape and purpose. Sometimes it would tell her that she wasn’t good enough. Sometimes it told her to run. Occasionally it’d tell her to survive no matter the cost.

Sometimes she listened.


	8. Eight

It took her a few seconds but she realized that the room had gone quiet. Beth had stopped speaking and the two couple in the room turned their attention to the stare down happening next to them. It unsettled her that she was distracted enough for someone else to notice it. And it horrified her when Mr. Greene decided to speak on it. "D'you know Miss Martin, Daryl?"

He nodded his head, just a hair, but kept his eyes on hers as he spoke. "Met yestaday."

There was a pause that filled the room then, as no one quite knew what to say next. Luckily they were saved by the grace of Mama Greene. “Well, least we’re not all strangers here. Beth was worried we’d scare you off before dessert.”

“Mama!”

Sam and Herschel chuckled at the exchange, it being a normal occurrence for the two women to tease each other. It'd get really interesting once Maggie arrived. "Don't worry about it, baby, So's seen much worse than the infamous Greene's."

The blonde smiled at him, a thousand watt smile and Sovay watched as her friend smiled right back at her, almost as brightly. She couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled like that. She was entirely sure he ever had. 

She gave her own small smile then, and asked if there was anything she could do to help with dinner. She didn't take no for a answer, when Annette said she was the guest. She helped peel peas, and set the table with Beth, put the pie in the oven as Mrs. Greene set the timer, and poured sweet tea into glasses before settling down at the table with the others, feeling eyes on her all the while. Maggie still hadn't arrived home yet, but she glanced around the table at the family, avoiding those blue eyes following her.

Herschel sat at the head of the table, beard trimmed to perfection, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up, a vision of a working man. To his left sat his wife, who was clearly much younger than him, the other half of a couple who also as clearly adored each other. She was done up in a way that wasn't obvious, and Sovay guessed that Annette was the type of woman who was always ready for the finest of company. A true Southern lady. The way they moved together, around each other, and spoke was further proof, proof that Sovay didn't necessarily need: this was a happy couple.

Their youngest child sat across from her mother, and next to her boyfriend, who was not so subtlety holding her hand under the table. Beth was all smiles. If Sovay and to guess, she wouldn't doubt that Beth never had anything other than a smile on her face. Which was fine for some people, but it was strange for Sovay. And it was definitely strange for Sam.

To Sam’s left, at the base of the table, sat the Greene’s adopted son who continued to stare at their guest as if she were going to combust any second. It didn’t go unnoticed by the others either.

She sat between Annette and Daryl, across from Sam, and pretended to ignore the man. He only spoke when spoken to and only moved his eyes off of her when Herschel asked if he knew when Maggie would be home. “Iunno’,” he said, “Rick’s got ev’body runnin’ ‘round on thi’ murda’ case.”

“How’s that going, Daryl?” As Beth spoke his eyes flicked to Sam before falling back on his main target. He opened his mouth to speak but not before Annette jumped in.

“Elizabeth Ann, we will _not_ talk about such things at my table! Especially in front of company. I know that I taught you better than that.” 

“Sorry, Mama,” the girl said as her mother gave her a look.

Sovay looked out of the corner of her eye to see the old man try to keep his lips from twitching into a smile.

Mrs. Greene broke the short silence by saying that since they didn’t know when their elder daughter would be back, they should go ahead and eat without her. Sovay was all for this, the small breakfast she had this morning long gone from her system.

Herschel asked that they say grace, and the occupants of the table outstretched their hands towards each other. She slipped her hand into the woman at her side’s with ease but hesitated when she looked at the large, calloused, tan one reaching towards her. Did he really participate in this? Daryl Dixon did not seem like the type of man who prayed. But apparently he was, at least when he was in the Greene household. She drug her eyes to his, finally, and looked into pools of steely blue filled with expectancy with a hint of mischief.

She put her hand in his slowly and gently, halfway expecting him to grab her with a vice-like grip and never let go. His hand was warm and just as calloused as she thought, and as a person who didn’t express the need for touching as some do, holding his hand felt _nice._ It was a strange feeling for her, feeling content while someone, especially a stranger who may or may not think she’s a murderer, was touching her. Once again, for what seemed like the hundredth time today, Sovay was unsettled. 

Herschel said grace and before she knew it the table was sprouting an “Amen,” and he let go of her hand. Even more abnormal than—not quite liking, but something akin to that—he feeling of his hand, was what she felt once it was gone. Her own hand suddenly felt empty, as if something had fallen from her grasp.

The group passed the serving dishes around the table and everyone set to eat. The homemade food was a treat to the girl who lived off of takeout and delivery. 

“Will you being staying here in town for long, Sovay?” Mrs. Greene asked. 

She was in-between bites when it happened, and for once she wished she had food stuffed in her face, because she didn’t have an answer. Not even a hint of an answer. Sam’s eyes flicked up to hers, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the detective set down the drink he was holding. She saw him shift slightly in his seat as if he was physically preparing for her answer. An answer that she still didn’t have. Though it was really only seconds, she felt like it took far to many minutes to pull a slice of bullshit from her brain. “I’m not quite sure yet, There are a lot of things in the area to see. I’ve never been to Georgia before. I guess I’ll just take it one day at a time.”

She was proud of herself, for her non-answer. It was a good one, perhaps one of her best. The Greene’s all seemed to accept this as a worthy answer, Annette beginning to give her some suggestions of places to sightsee, with Beth then jumping in with her own ideas, Herschel just nodding his headwith their ideas and continuing to eat his meal. She half listened as she refused to look at Sam. She knew there’d be a shit-eating grin on his face. She knew because she knew him and he knew her just as well. She also didn't want to turn her head to see the look on Daryl’s face because she was entirely unsure of what she’d see there and only half of her wanted to find out. She guessed that he knew it was a load of crap. The small amount of things she knew about the man suggested that he was excellent at reading people.

It’s not as if she had lied though, not really. She had no idea how long she’d be staying in the small town of Senoia. However long it took, she supposed.

The conversation soon turned to Beth and her deliberations about a choice of college major. It was now down to either musical therapy or education. She kept going back an forth between the two. Sovay’s contribution to the topic was to suggest a double major in both. Apparently this was the best idea that the young had ever heard, if the smile on her face was any kind of judge.

The youngest Green then went on to talk about other things, her friends and such, with the others throwing in a word of two every now and then. All except for the mysterious man at the end of the table, that is. He stayed silent, watching the goings-on. No, actually, he was still watching her. His gaze was slowly creeping under her skin and she didn’t like it.

Just as her mind decided that she _would_ continue to ignore the man, despite what her body was telling her, the eldest Greene daughter walked into the room behind him, and her instincts forced her to look in his direction. She quickly resented the woman’s appearance then, because instead of looking towards the new arrival, her eyes instantly found his and she was once again mesmerized. 

He was trying and possibly succeeding at picking her apart from the outside in. For the first time since her arrival in this town she was 100% concerned. Not because her past was coming back to haunt her, or that a serial killer might be raiding this small town. She was worried that someone might see _her,_ the real her, for the first time. And that was something she could not allow.

Luck was on her side this time, finally, as Maggie waved away all introductions to speak directly to Daryl. “There’s another body.”

And at last, his eyes left her.


	9. Nine

The dinner disappeared quickly after that. Daryl instantly started asking Maggie questions while pulling out his ancient flip phone to type something. Annette practically jumped to her feet, packaging up some of the food for her children to take with them. She ignored her eldest daughter saying they probably wouldn't have time to eat anything, even if they wanted to, that is. Maggie was still talking and Daryl was still typing when Beth stood to help her mother.  Sam clambered up behind her to grab a paper bag from a drawer near the fridge. _He must spend more time here than I thought_ , she said to herself. It occurred to her that she had yet to find out where Sam was living in this small Georgia town. _Strange._

The bustle of the kitchen was broken by the shrill ringing of the detective’s cell phone, who swiftly walked from the room and out onto the front porch to answer. Sovay looked away from the retreating man to glance around the room. From the two women at the counter, to her friend, and finally to the man of the house, who stood and approached his oldest daughter. She watched as the father placed his hands on the girl’s shoulders and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Be careful, Maggie. I don’t want you getting too far into this ugly business.”

The young woman gave the old man a small smile, one full of affection and respect. “Don’t worry about me, Daddy. Daryl’s the one who needs lookin’ out for.”

“I heard tha’,” the man in question growled, as he walked back into the house. His stance was not at all relaxed, giving her some clue as to what was talked about in the call. “Gotta go.”

He waited as Maggie kissed her father on the cheek and walked over to her stepmother, trading the same for the bag of food. She gave Beth’s hand a quick squeeze, and spared a small wave for Sam. Sovay watched as Maggie turned back towards the doorway, and then take a double look when the woman’s eyes fell on herself. As if she hadn’t noticed her sitting there before. She saw as her eyes flicked to her adopted brother’s and then back to her own, clearly recognizing her from that morning in the station. She had a quick moment of panic, wondering if the officer would mention the event from earlier in the day. She guessed that the woman had been informed about her visit with the detectives.

But Maggie just threw her a smile and Sovay gave one in return. The the rookie police officer led the way from the house, Daryl seeming intent on following after her. He stopped his movement towards the door when Mrs. Greene cleared her throat in expectation.The man turned his head and peeked at the older woman from beneath his overgrown bangs before striding towards her.Soon they stood face to face, and Sovay, once again, saw all the differences between Dixon and the Greene’s. He bent down, as he stood almost a full head higher than Annette, and placed a tentative kiss on her cheek, before pulling away quickly. 

The ordeal was almost as astonishing, if not more, than his participation in the prayer. He shook his discomfort off quickly though, and turned towards Beth to ruffle her perfect hair, enticing a screech from the girl. Something similar to a smirk crossed his face as he turned away, his eyes finding Sovay, still sitting at the table. He didn’t acknowledge her in any real way, just bore his gaze into hers in the few seconds it took him to pass by her, and then he was gone.

No one moved while the sound of footsteps retreated, or while the sound of a motorcycle engine pulled from the back of the house and disappeared into the dusk. In fact, there was quite a pause in the time after the pair left. No one in the party seemed to know what to do exactly. 

Eventually Mrs. Greene recovered her Southern etiquette and sat her remaining daughter back in her seat before doing so herself. She smiled politely at Sovay and said something about this not being the first time a member of the family was pulled away in the middle of a meal. Apparently it happened often, having three, and then four, grown children around the house. But Sovay guessed that this was first time it had happened under these circumstances. 

They tried to fall back into the rhythm before the interruption, to no avail. And yet the polite conversation continued, Mrs. Greene asking her if she was staying at the bed & breakfast while she was in town. When she affirmed, the Greene’s went on to speak of their decades long friendship with Dale and his late wife.

She attempted to listen for awhile, but soon retreated into her mind, consumed within her thoughts. _Did he know why she was here? Was it really him, again? Why?_ she pondered. And most pressing on her mind, _Why did she miss having those eyes lingering on her?_

* * *

Daryl couldn’t decide if this was just as bad, or worse than the first one.  He’d seen some nasty shit in his day, but this week was quickly moving to the top of his list. He looked down at the poor girl, barely even out of her teenage years, if that. She was butchered. There’s no other word for it. Butchered and sewn back together in the wrong order, just like the Peletier girl. He didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He needed to memorize this, every detail. Because if he missed something, if some small piece of this horrible puzzle passed through his gaze, he would be to blame if the killer got away.

Logically he knew this wasn’t true, knew it wouldn’t really be his fault. But every hit, every kick, every punch and ugly word ever thrown at him contradicted his rational mind. He knew it wouldn’t really be his fault. Except it would be.

He was so engrossed with his inspection that he didn’t hear his partner walking up behind him. Rick had been the first commanding officer on the scene, but had been busy speaking with witnesses and the first cop to arrive. The former sheriff didn’t say anything as he took a place standing next to Daryl. He knew that the man was taking in the scene just as he was, neither of them wanting to missing a single thing. The pair stood like this for a few minutes, ignoring the hustle and bustle going on around them. 

When he did finally look up from the horror, that which was now firmly imprinted on his mind, he saw that Michonne and Tyreese were just arriving. Maggie was talking to the medical examiner and his technician, and that new kid, _Zach,_ he thinks, was trying to corral the reporters who’d somehow heard about all this. It could’ve been anyone really, who’d called the TV stations. Unlike the last crime scene, which was a fairly isolated area of town, this girl had been dumped in the alleyway outside a local bar in the middle of town. Any one could have seen her. _And yet no one had seen_ _anything_ , he guessed. 

“Y’kno’ ‘ho she i’ yet?”

From the corner of his eye he saw Rick nod his head. “Eliza Morales, 18. Her mom’s a friend of Lori’s. Babysat the kids for us once.”

Daryl was definitely surprised. _Fucker got a local girl?!_ he thought. And then, _Shit, does Beth know this girl?_ He hid any uneasiness he felt to focus on the situation at hand, and ran his palm over his face. “Shit man, sorry.” Rick just nodded his head again and continued to stare at the body at their feet, so Daryl went on. “Tim’o’ death?”

“‘Bout 8 hours ago,” the withdrawn man replied. “Hadn’t ev’n been reported missin’ yet.”

The redneck shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a shitstorm. “’N’thang on tha firs’ girl yet?”

Michonne chose this moment to walk up on the partners, and overhearing his question, she replied. “Bob just finished when we got the call to come here.” She paused throwing a look at Grimes, noticing his aloofness before continuing. “Sofia Peletier died from asphyxiation due to strangulation. 85% of the physical damage was done post mortem and most of the rest were defensive wounds. She fought back.” She glanced at Rick again, clearly concerned about his demeanor. “Rape kit was positive, but there was no DNA.”

Hearing this Rick moved suddenly, finally turning away from the remains, and began pacing. 

“Rick?” Daryl knew that his friend was thinking of the poor child who’d been discovered a few hours ago, even more so than the first. He knew that this going to tear a piece of Rick away that couldn’t be replaced. 

The man in question ran both hands over his face before turning halfway back towards the others. “Gotta go notify her parents. Tell Stookey to rush this,” he said looking directly at Michonne. She nodded and walked away. Then looking back at Daryl he spoke again. “Eight hours ago Martin was with us,” and Daryl nodded. “Sam wasn’t. Go talk to him. Im’ma call Lori, have her meet me at the Morales place.”

He nodded again. Dixon knew that making death notifications was one of the worst parts of the job, but he guessed making them with your ex-wife would be even worse. The men split up andDaryl headed towards his bike, pausing a moment after straddling it to dial a number on his phone. He was going to track down Keyes, but first he was going to call Herschel and tell him to lock Beth up in her room and throw away the key.


	10. Ten

_That was a waste of fucking time_. Not only did Reyes have an alibi, his alibi was that he had been _fucking_ Beth at the time. _That motherfucker is_ ** _fucking_** _my baby sister._ He was lucky Daryl hadn’t killed him right then and there. Now he was in an even shittier mood than before and on top of that, learned nothing pertinent to the case. Except that two of their main suspects apparently weren’t suspects at all. And one of them was screwing his sister. Fuck locking her in her room, she was going to a convent if he had to drag her there himself. He sent a quick text to Grimes, stating that Sam had a alibi. 

_I need a drink,_ he thought, a thought that repeated itself again and again until he pulled off into a parking lot. Technically the place was called Engine 82, but everybody referred to it as Red’s, whether that be because of the front door’s vibrant color, or the owner’s hair color. Either way, it was the only decent place in town to go bottoms up, and Daryl didn’t feel like being indecent tonight. There was already enough of that going around.

Abraham opened his place in an old firehouse when he came to town about 5 years back. An ugly divorce made the Texan flee east, settling in Senoia when he met Rosita, a classmate of Maggie’s. Despite the age difference things were still going smoothly and they’d even talked about getting married. Well, Rosita talked. Abe liked to pretend that he was still wearing the pants in their relationship. He didn’t fool too many people.

Daryl walked into the dim lighting and raised his hand in a wave towards Abe at the end of the counter before sitting down at the opposite end. He noticed Rosita in the corner, laughing and serving a rather loud table, but he paid no mind. Sasha, Tyreese’s sister and the best bartender in town, glanced in his direction and started pouring a glass of whiskey for the detective. She slid it in front of him as he sat down on a stool, a good ways away from the rambunctious table. ”Dixon,” she says, nodding her head towards him. “How’re things?”

He does nothing but grunt at her, something she’s used to. In all the years he’s been in this town, the few times he’s felt the need to come into Red’s to drink have been when things are bad. _Bad_ bad.

“How’s the case going? Ty hasn’t said much…”

He looks up at her from his seat, at her face for the first time since walking in here. He knows her well enough to know that the look she's giving him isn't pure curiosity. There’s worry there too. “’s…” He doesn’t know what to say. He really can’t say much, open case and all that, but he knows he can trust her. “’s nasty. Ugly. Ain’ n’va seen nuthin’ li’ it.”

He watches as she takes in his words, something he’d normally never say. Not a lot can shock a Dixon, but this Butcher shit certainly did. His mind flashed back to screaming and crying, falling to the floor as blood streamed down his back. Of eyes swollen shut and split lips, broken ribs and gasping for breath. No, not a lot can shock one of Will Dixon’s boys, but this did.

He came back to the present and noticed that Sasha was still looking at him like she wanted to ask him something else. Just as he thought she might, a piercing laugh echoed through the room. 

The pair turned their heads towards the sound, its source being that small table in the corner where three women sat. Rosita had walked away now, so he could get a better look at who was making all the noise. He should have paid more attention when he walked in, instead of just worrying about getting some alcohol in his system. 

Amy Harris was the one with the laugh, flipping her hair over her shoulder and wearing an outfit that her pops would probably never approve of. Daryl guessed that the only reason Dale had let her out of the house in the first place was because of the woman sitting next to her. Andrea Harris was an older version of her sister in looks only. Where Amy was sweet, quiet and shy, Andrea was obnoxious, bull headed and bold. She breezed into town every six months or so, needing a break from her fancy lawyer job in Atlanta, usually leaving some sort of mess in her wake. Seeing her wasn’t the biggest surprise to him though. That would be the third woman, sitting across from the sisters, with a big smile on her face.

Until now Daryl figured that Sovay Martin didn’t know how to smile. At least, not really smile. He found out that he was wrong, though, as he watched the women laugh. She looked like a normal girl like this. Probably somewhat similar to what she looked like back in college, before her life turned upside down. _She’s actually kind of beautiful like this,_ he thought before shaking it from his mind. _What the hell you thinking, Dixon. She’s a suspect in a damn murder case._ Clearly the whiskey was getting to him already. Or it was the lack of sleep, and the million of things on his mind. Yeah, that had to be it.

He must have been staring for awhile because eventually she turned to look at him, instantly straightening in her seat. Andrea took notice in the change and glanced to see the reason. Her eyes caught on his and the elder Harris gave her famous smirk and threw back the last of her drink. Daryl turned to face forward again mentally shaking his head as he too finished his drink. 

Sasha quietly refilled his glass and then moved to the other end of the bar, taking notice of the woman walking towards him. Andrea slid onto the barstool to his left just as he raised the glass to his lips again. “Hey stranger,” she said, with that smirk still on her face.

“Harris,” he nodded back without looking at her, taking a sip from the glass. He didn’t say anything else; he knew that she would. She loved to talk, lawyer and all that.

“Miss me? It’s been awhile.” He just grunts at her, his own speciality. “Oh come on, Dixon, live a little. I’m only here ’til the end of the week.”

He huffed out a bit of air and took another sip. “Shu’nt ya be spendin’ tha’ tim’ wi’ ya sister then?”

She laughed then, a flirty little laugh that he’d grown to recognize. “Daryl,” she said, laying her hand on his arm, “Amy’s a big girl. She can get home on her own.”

“Ya kno’ there’s sumbody goin’ 'roun killin’ pretty girls don’cha?” he bites out, suddenly furious at her carelessness. He looks at her finally, and sees the mirth fall from her face, before turning his head back forward again.

“Is it really that bad then?” He doesn’t say anything to confirm or deny, but he knows she understands the seriousness of it, if he feels the need to point it out. He sees her nod her head out of the corner of his eye as she glances at her sister and back at him. “We’ll call it early.”

She gets up from the stool to walk back to her table, throwing “You know where to find me!” over her shoulder. 

* * *

She noticed him as soon as he walked in and immediately decided to ignore him at all costs. When she’d run into Amy earlier and was invited out with her older sister, Andrea, she hastily accepted. Anything to get her mind off of what was going on. She used all her energy to focus on a ritual she’d nearly forgotten: Girl’s Night.

When she agreed Amy nearly jumped out of her skin with excitement. Sovay was quickly dragged up the stairs and and thrown back into the world of a normal 20-something girl. She almost didn’t remember how this all worked, it’d been so long. Years, really, since she’d gotten all dressed up and went out just for the hell of it. But she went along Amy and the girls got dressed together, did their hair and makeup. When Andrea showed up they changed their outfits again for the fourth time. In the end, Amy traded shirts with Sovay, a teal halter top paired with a black pencil skirt and stilettos, and Sovay borrowed one from Andrea, a black and silver tank top with white skinny jeans and black wedges. Andrea decided on a red tube top and black blazer with tight blue jeans and knee high boots.

By the time all three of them were ready it was nearly nine o’clock and they were starving. They grabbed a quick bite at the small familiar diner and headed down the street to a bar, where they drank and traded stories, laughing and having a good time. She’s nearly forgotten the reality of why she was in this town in the first place. Until he walked in, that is.

She really, really tired to ignore him. Tried to focus on Amy’s story and having a good time. But then she felt his eyes on her and instinctually stiffened. Andrea noticed, with those lawyer eagle eyes and a curiosity to know why. Her eyes settled on the detective and she grinned, and Sovay found herself getting _jealous_ of all things.

Which was ridiculous. She had no right to be, no _reason_ for it. And yet she was, and grew more so as she watched the elder Harris sister get up from the table without a word and walk towards the man. 

She tried not to watch the pair, she really did, and was saved from it with Amy’s scoff. "My sister came be such a slut sometimes." Sovay's eyebrows rose in shock of hearing such word out of the sweet girl's mouth, and Amy continued. "She's got a boyfriend back in Atlanta. Or a fiancée, whatever. I've only met him a few times -- he's always working, even more than Andy -- but he seems nice. Phillip's his name. He's a lawyer too -- a defense attorney. He's good looking, a great job, and he's got money. Everything she says she wants. And yet every time she comes home she's always trying to hook up with Detective Dixon. She does sometimes, which is fine I guess, they're both adults. But I just think it's so selfish of her. I mean, yeah, she's cheating on Phillip, but what about Daryl? He's such a good guy, even if some people don't think so, cause of how tough he looks. But he is. He's always helping people, he comes over to help Gramps with stuff around the inn, and one time I saw him save a kitten from a storm drain. He's so nice. And he deserves so much more than my sister using him for whatever bad boy release she needs whenever she runs through town. It's not fair. Not for Daryl. Or Phillip. And it just makes me so angry sometimes. You can't just treat people like that, you know? Not that she cares."

So at just stares at Amy, mouth wide open, baffled at her words. She certainly wasn't expecting that. But then she smirks. "So you've got a thing for Mr. Dixon then, huh?"

She watches as the blonde's face turns bright red as "What--I, no-- I don't--" stumbles out of her mouth. She's saved, however by the return of Andrea, who wears a frown on her face. "Hey Andy," she says, cheeks still red. "You strike out?"

Andrea just keeps frowning. "We should head back for the night."

Sovay quirks an eyebrow, wondering what was said between the two at the bar, as Amy tries to sway her sister. "But it's barely even 11, Andy!" she says with that perfect baby sister begging face. 

There's a pause before the elder sister replies with a sigh and a "Fine. But only until midnight."

Happy with her extended curfew, Amy hopped up from her seat and ran over to the end of the bar where Rosita and Sasha stood talking, to order more drinks. Sovay stayed where she sat and tried to subtlety decipher what was said between Andrea and Dixon at the bar, by the expression on Andrea's face. She watched as Andrea finished off her drink and sighed, looking around the room, before her eyes fell back on their guest. 

"Sovay, you're new in town. Know anything about this Butcher business?"

She tried to mask her face from showing any emotion other than innocence, thinking she may have pulled it off. If the elder Harris sister knew of her involvement with the case, she'd probably never tell Amy and Dale, and she'd be out of a place to stay and a friend. So she gives a vague, "Only what I've seen on the news," answer before the lawyer's phone starts ringing. She looks at it and sighs, hitting a button and putting it to her ear. 

Sovay does some sort of sign language saying she'll be right back, and gets up from her seat. She passes by Abraham and the Mullet Man having some sort of argument, and the three woman at the bar easily, going down a small hallway to where the bathrooms are said to be. She doesn't stop in front of the door with the word "Chicks" written across it though. Instead she keeps going to the end of the hallway towards an exit sign. 

She hopes there isn't some kind of alarm on the door; that would be embarrassing. But luck is on her side and she slip out quietly into the cool night air. It was a alley, a small one, that opened out onto Main Street. Sovay took a deep breath and leaned against the brick wall, throwing her head back and looking up at the sky.

She’s not sure how long she stood there, but eventually she heard the creaking of the door opening. It was a toss up of who was more surprised, her or Daryl. He already had his cigarettes in his hand, the other digging through his pockets for a lighter. He only paused for a second when their eyes met before continuing into the alleyway, lighting up. Both were silent, awkwardly pretending to ignore each other’s presence while also trying to catch every one of each other’s movements.

He made the first move, clearing his throat to get her attention, even though he knew he already had it. “Shu’nt be ou’ ‘ere alon’.”

She couldn’t help from grinning. “Figured I’d be safe. Since I’m apparently the one who’s killing everyone.” She could feel his scowl under her skin.

“Don’ th’nk i’s you.” Sovay shot up from the wall, completely surprised, and just stared, right at him. He took a long drag before dropping the butt to the ground and stomping it out, looking at the ground. “Do ah th’nk yer a killa? Ah th’nk ya cud be. Yer more than capable. If tha facts add’d up, ah wud’nt doubt ya fer a secon’.” Her face fell as he was speaking, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. “Bu’ they don’. Les’ yer hidin’ a dick unda all’a’tha’,” he said, raking his eyes over her before finally meeting her gaze again, “wer’nt you.”

It took her a second to process what he’d said. But when she did get it, her eyes went wide. “They—they were raped?” she whispered out.

He cocked his head, confusion evident. “Ya didn’ kno’,” a statement, not a question.

She shook her head. “I didn’t—the other cops never said—maybe it was just the girls here?”

He thought he heard something like begging in her voice, knowing that she was probably thinking of her friend, the last known victim. Kelsey. The one she’d found. “I’s in all’a’tha’ files. Well, tw’le of ‘em. I’s not back o’ tha las’ girl yet.”

She just nodded, mind running.

“Y’shud get home. “Er, Dale’s. S’not safe.”

“Worrying about me already, Dixon? Didn’t realize I’d gotten so deep under your skin,” she said, smirk back on her face.

_She bounces back quick,_ he thought. “Jus’ don’ wan’ ma biggest lead ta disappea’.” Deadpanned, straight faced. 

She rolled her eyes and grinned. “Well we wouldn’t want that,” she said opening the door back into the bar. “See you around Detective Dixon. You know where to find me.” And then she was gone.

He stayed out in the night air for a few minutes longer, trying to decide if he wanted to drink more when he got back inside. A booming _Yes_ went through his mind and he went back in, and swept his eyes around the room. However, he didn’t find what he was looking for. The brunette was gone, but the two blondes were still present, and the older, bossy one met his eyes. He gave a nod, barely visible unless you were paying attention, and she smiled wide. 

She said a few short words to her younger sister and then followed him out the door.

* * *

Daryl awoke with the dawn, as he always did. He was only confused for a moment before recognizing where he was. It wasn’t his first time here, and as Andrea was in town for a few more days, he guessed it probably wouldn’t be his last. He looked to his right and saw the blonde facedown, dead to the world. He got up slowly and carefully, not wanting to wake her, mostly so he didn't have to have some kind of conversation. They don’t do conversations, just stringless sex and he liked it that way. And he planned on keeping it that way.

He sat up in the bed, putting his feet to the floor and cracking his back. _Man I’m getting old,_ Daryl thought to himself. He reached to the floor and pulled on his clothes, opting to shower at the station rather than risking waking Andrea or the wrath of Dale. He wasn’t too happy the last time he caught Daryl sneaking out at the crack of dawn.

He pulled on the last of his clothing, his boots and then his jacket and vest, quietly opening the bedroom door and walking out. He fully expected to be the only one in the house up at this hour. So of course he was wrong. Of course he wasn’t, and of course he forgot that Andrea’s old bedroom was on the same floor as some of the guest rooms. So of course, when he turned away from the door to walk down the hallway and out of the bed & breakfast, he nearly walked straight into Sovay Martin.

He immediately froze, not knowing what to do. Or what to say. He watched as her face went from surprise, to confusion, to amusement. Her eyebrows rose to an unbelievable heights and she grinned. He scowled, trying to make it scary, but her grin just grew into a full smile. He gave something close to a growl and pushed her out of the way, stalking down the hallway and out of the building. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Rick was just getting in for the day when Daryl stepped out of the locker room, freshly showered and hair still dripping, scowl still present. He followed Rick into his office, motioning towards Tyreese, Maggie and Dr. Stookey to join them. Michonne was already in the room, tacking some papers to the cork board. She nodded to the members of the team as they entered the small space, turning to Rick for his direction.

Grimes sat some files and his coffee down on his desk and turned to face his colleagues. “Let’s get started. Bob?”

The squirrelly and quirky medical examiner stepped forward a bit and spoke. “I finished my exam on Eliza Morales. Pretty much the same results as Sophia Peletier. Rape kit was positive, no DNA. Asphyxiation due to strangulation, same as before, as were a good portion of the injuries. Most differences were in the defensive wounds, but even some those were the same. To was negative.”

Rick nodded. “Any chance you’ve looked over those old files yet?”

“Not yet,” he said, shaking his head, “Was going to take a quick nap and get to it.”

The man in charge nodded again. “Alright, get back to me as soon as you can. Get one of the rookies to help you if you need it.” With that, the doctor left the room, leaving the rest of the team to continue. “”Chonne, get anything on those sealed files?”

The woman pulled a file from a stack and handed it to Rick. “Sam Keyes had a lengthy juvie record, mostly petty theft from a few grocery stores and gas stations, one instance of grand theft auto—though it turned out to be his grandmother's car so the charges were dropped—but there were a few things that stood out.” And leaned over his shoulder to point to a few lines lower on the page. “At 17 he was charged with assault on a—,” she paused to reread the name, “Richard Cassidy, aged 16. However he was never convicted, probably because less than a month later, he was questioned as the main suspect in the boy’s disappearance.”

Daryl and Rick shared a look from across the room, agreeing on something telepathically. _I’m definitely doing deeper checks on Bethy’s boy toys._ And then he added, _And I’m sure as hell telling Hershel to lock that girl up._

“They didn’t find a body and there was no evidence, so nothing happened with the locals. But I did a little digging on the Cassidy kid,” Michonne said, continuing. “He’s got quite a file of his own.” She frowned. “Just before Sam was charged with assault, Richard ‘Dick” Cassidy was accused of sexually assaulting three teenage girls.”

The whole room froze at the admission of this information, and Tyreese was the first to speak up. “How much you want to bet that Sovay Martin was one of those girls?”

Rick huffed out a laugh. “I’d be straight up shocked if she wasn’t at this point,” he said shaking his head. “Any chance the girls’ names are in that file?” he asked, turning towards Michonne.

“They were all minors at the time, so no.”

“We could check the hospital records around that time,” Maggie threw in, speaking for the first time. “They’re probably listed in there somewhere.”

“Good idea, Mags, get on it.” 

She left the room and it was Daryl’s turn to ask questions. He was just about to open his mouth when his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out, and seeing Andrea’s number across the screen, immediately put it back down. He did not need this right now. “We kno’ ’n’thin’ els’ ‘bout tha missin’ kid?”

Michonne shook her head. “Not really. He was there one minute, gone the next. None of his things were missing but there were no signs of any violence, aside from what Sam did. Could be he just left.”

“So he could be anywhere,” Tyreese said.

“We go’ a picture o’em or sumthin’?” His phone started ringing again and he huffed out a puff of air. He ignored it, again.

She nodded. “Locals are getting one for me, and running age simulation.”

“It’s been 10 year,” Rick added, “he could look completely different.”

“Unfortunately they never got any prints on him. He was accused but they hadn’t gotten around to arresting him before he went missing.”

“So we go’ nuthin’.”

The room fell silent again, the cops all thinking. Daryl’s phone went off again and he was about three seconds from throwing it through a window. _What the hell did the woman want_?

Rick was the first to speak, coming up with a game plan. “We need to talk to Sam and Sovay again. Figure out what any of this has to do with anything. Bring them in if we have to, full questioning. We’re not getting anywhere by playing nice.”

It was then that Zach from the front desk knocked on Rick’s office door. “Uh, sorry Sirs.” His eyes flitted to Michonne. “And Ma’am. Um—there’s a woman at the desk asking for you Detective Dixon. She’s being very persis—”

Daryl growled, knowing exactly who it was. “Tha’ fuck’s she want?” he bit out.

“I’m—I”m not exactly su—”

Andrea, being Andrea, decided that that would be the perfect moment to burst into Rick’s office, a crazy look on her face. Daryl barely even got a “Wha’re—” out of his mouth before she cut him off, panicked. 

“Amy didn’t come home last night.”


	11. Eleven

Sovay knew, as soon as she woke that it was too early, the evidence stemming from the barest of light shining through the curtains. If one thing was certain, it was that Sovay Martin was not naturally a morning person, and she desperately wanted to fall back to sleep. But her bladder had other ideas.

She pulled herself out of bed and did her business, intent on crawling back into bed for the next few hours. This time it was her dry throat that changed her plans. 

The sun was just starting to rise when Sovay made her way downstairs and into the kitchen for a glass of water, placing the glass in the sink when she was finished. She stood at the sink for a few moments afterward, finally giving herself time to feel how weary she really was. This town was seriously getting to her and only about 70% of that had to do with it’s serial killer. 

After a few minutes she forced herself to straighten and cracked her spine, feeling about 20 times better afterwards. She knew that despite the early hour, she wouldn't be falling back to sleep anytime soon. Sovay backtracked through the kitchen, switching off the lights behind her and made her way back up the stairs. Just as she was about to turn the corner to the hall that led to her room, a strong gust of wind blew outside, knocking a tree branch against the building. She startled at the sound and instinctively turned towards it. 

Sovay was even more frightened as, instead of continuing forward down the hall, she ran straight into a wall, and would’ve fallen backwards if not for the pair of strong arms that held her upright. Arms that belonged, not to a wall, but to one Daryl Dixon who was exiting the room on the corner. She looked at him bewildered for a moment at why he was at the bed & breakfast so early in the morning, before she realized what door it was that he was coming from. _Andrea’s room? That’s definitely…interesting._

She looked in his face raised her eyebrows with a smirk, the best _I Know Exactly What You Were Doing_ look she had in her. She only got a glance at his reddening face before he tucked his chin and pushed past her down the stairs. Sovay huffed out a laugh and watched him walk away before sliding back into her own room.

* * *

It was nearly 9:30 by the time Sovay left her rented room again, having leisurely showered and dressed. She looked from one end of the hallway to the other, noticing that both Amy and Andrea’s doors were still shut with no sounds of life drifting through from the other side. She didn't expect to see either of them until mid-afternoon at the earliest.

Venturing downstairs Sovay found herself chatting with Dale, who was cleaning off the dining room table, but immediately offered to “throw something together for breakfast”. She declined the old man, saying that she wanted to grab a coffee at the diner while catching up on the night’s gossip. Which was mostly true. She was really hoping she could _accidentally_ overhear a few things about what was going on in this town, preferably from one of Senoia’s finest. She wanted to know what exactly they do know, and what they thought they knew. 

Sovay decided against starting up her old pile of rust and walked the few blocks into town. This really was a beautiful little town, accented now by the changing leaves and crisp air. She always did love a good fall. A few cars passed her on her way, whizzing by in this direction or that, and a man walked his dog on the other side of the street. Other than that, it would seem as if the tiny town was still sleeping off last night like the Harris sisters were. 

She walked into the diner with a chime of a bell, just as sirens sounded behind her. Sovay turned around immediately and stepped back onto sidewalk. The sirens blared as they flew past her, the sheriff’s SUV followed by a recognizable man on a motorcycle. A man, who kept his eyes on hers as they sped by.

* * *

The room raised a collective eyebrow when Daryl, spoke for Andrea, saying that they were at the bar with Amy last night before leaving around 11. The second eyebrow went up after Andrea threw in that Sovay was there with the sisters too. Normally, everyone in town knew that Andrea could be a bit…overzealous. But with the things going on in this town recently, they weren’t going to take any chances.

Daryl could see the confusion and eventual realization across his bedmate’s face when Rick started out by first asking questions about the stranger, rather than about the youngest Harris. A bitting, “Is she a suspect?!” from the blonde towards Daryl, changed the detective’s line of questioning onto Amy. 

Andrea told the cops that after she left the bar with Daryl, Amy stayed, saying she’d get a ride home with Sovay. That she hadn’t seen her since then, and that she was positive her bed hadn’t been slept in. Andrea then started asking some questions of her own, the lawyer in her coming out to play. Daryl noticed that a couple of them were directed at him, but he was wrapped up in his own mind, thinking about the night before. _Martin left b’fore us, didn’ she? ‘Les she was in the bathroom. She coulda—it coulda been her. Right after I just got done tellin’ her I didn’ think it was. Goddamit Dixon._

He was pulled back to the conversation by Rick giving out orders. He and Daryl would accompany Andrea back to the Inn, so they could talk to Dale and hopefully Sovay. Ty would put out an APB on Amy, while Michonne went over to Red’s to talk with Abe and the others.

They all got to it, the partners following Andrea outside and to her overpriced car, which she promptly started up and drove off to her grandpa’s. Giving each other a slight nod, the men climbed into or onto there respective vehicles and followed after the sporty convertible. 

Daryl spent most of the drive caught up in his own thoughts again, until he noticed someone stepping out of the diner just as they were passing by. _Her._ She didn’t look like a killer, but Daryl was finally ready to admit to himself that maybe he couldn’t trust his instincts when it came to Sovay Martin.

* * *

Andrea was already out of the car and talking to her grandfather on the front porch when the lawmen pulled up. Dale was not looking so great at the moment, understandably. He abstained from a formal greeting, instead asking the pair about what they thought happened. Rick, being the charismatic man that he was, simply said that they needed more information before they began to worry. But knowing his partner well, Daryl knew the man didn’t believe his words. He was definitely worried that something foul had happened to the youngest Harris sister. In all honestly, he was too. Amy was a sweet kid, even if she did smile at him a bit too much.

Rick continued talking with Andrea and Dale while Daryl decided to take a quick look around. The front door didn’t look like it had been damaged in any way, so he went back down the porch steps and followed the rocky path around the back, to where there was extra parking. Not only did he find Amy’s little red Bug, but a blue hooptie with Kentucky plates. Apparently Sovay had walked into town that morning.

A fact that was confirmed a few seconds later when he heard Andrea yelling, and what sounded like the beginning of a bitch fight.

* * *

Sovay felt it in her gut, as soon as she watched the motorcycle turn down the street she’d come to know well, that something was wrong at the Inn. She left the diner behind her and walked at a quick pace back the way she came.

It took her about half the time to walk back than it did on her way there, and when she arrived Rick, Dale and Andrea were all standing outside talking. She slowed her pace when she noticed that Daryl and Amy were no where to be seen. _Oh God, not Amy._

She wouldn’t put it past _him._ Even though she’d only known Amy for a few days now, she _knew_ that if he was here, if he knew she was here, which she didn’t doubt at all, he would go after the people close to her. And one of the first people that she’d met in town was Amy. _He_ would know that. Of course he would. Of course he would use Amy against her.

Anything sweet, anything good, anything or anyone _pure_ he would use to play his game. It’s the same as before, when they played the game the first time, and then the second. He takes all things good and wonderful and twists them into the ugly, the horrid. Things that were once beautiful are now morbid. The only real changes between the start and now was the progression. It keeps getting worse. _He_ keeps getting worse. Coming after girls she’s barely gotten to know, just to prove his point. _I’m winning and you can’t stop me._

Sovay had only taken a few more steps closer to the house when Andrea ran out towards her with her fists raised and fire in her eyes. One hit to the cheek, and another on her jaw before she could even recover from the first. Dale had barely even started yelling at his granddaughter to stop when a figure wrapped itself around Andrea, stopping her from making any more blows. 

Sovay cupped her face and tried to keep her cool, feeling a small trickle of blood forming at the corner of her mouth. “What the HELL, Andrea?”, she bit out over the shrieking woman.

The blonde woman wriggled against the figure, Sovay now knew to be Daryl, as she yelled at her counterpart. “Where the hell is my sister, you psycho bitch?! WHERE’S AMY?!”

“DARYL!” Rick barked from his spot next to Dale, who was looking another 50 years older than he already was. “Get her out of here and cool her off. You,” he said to Sovay, “you come with me.”


	12. Twelve

He motioned with his hand for her to follow as he walked to his SUV, and she looked back at the struggling pair as she did. Daryl was still holding onto a wiggling Andrea, trying to get her into the house while a worried Dale held the door open for them. When she did turn back towards Rick, she noticed that he was holding the backdoor open for her, rather than the passenger door. The second row of seating usually reserved for criminals and those in handcuffs. Nevertheless Sovay climbed in to the vehicle throwing a hesitant eye at the detective as he slammed the door shut and walked around to the driver’s door. 

Rick quickly threw the truck into gear and sped out of the lot, heading down the road towards the outskirts of town rather than to the station. Which terrified her quite a bit, if she was to be honest with herself. Cops in general made her uneasy, but small town ones even more so. They were always a little more…lax when it came to procedure. A little too set in their own old ways, especially in these old southern towns.

But as Sovay looked at the man—what she could see of him in the rearview mirror, anyway—she noticed the pure exhaustion covering his face. Dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, and a unkempt face that clearly hadn't been shaved in days. This was not a man worried about re-elections and the public eye. No, Rick Grimes was concerned for his town, for _his_ people.

The pair kept quiet quiet on the drive, both trying to hide the looks pointed in the other’s direction. Both trying to feel each other out, and both fed up with not having the answers to the many questions poised.

Rick only drove for about 10 minutes before pulling off the road near a cattle field. After putting the truck in park he twisted in his seat to look back at Sovay, her arms crossed in front of her chest and an expectant look on her face. He sighed either out of exhaustion or annoyance, or who knows, maybe both at this point, and turned around to exit the vehicle. After hitting the unlock button to his old Explorer he opened and closed the door to let her out of the back seat.

Sovay climbed out of the backseat, unsure of what to do with herself. Obviously she wasn’t in charge here. If she was lucky she’d walk away from this conversation with only half of her ass handed to her, but she wasn’t feeling optimistic. Out here, away from town and other people, Rick Grimes wasn’t going to let her get away with cryptic non-answers. He was out here to get the truth and he knew he was going to get it. But she didn’t have to make it easy for him.

She rounded on him, arm crossed once again in defiance, a no-nonsense look on her face to match the one on his. The man stood with his hand on his hips, looking at her expectantly. He sighed again, and Sovay wondered if he did that a lot, when she didn’t start speaking. 

“Now look Ms. Martin, I’ve been nice so far. As nice as I can be when I’ve got women turning up dead in my town. But now, now I’m going to need you to start talking to me, one decent human being to another.” He paused waiting for her to speak, but not exactly expecting her to. 

She’d turned her face away as he was speaking, and looked out into the nearby field. Blobs of black and white were scattered between the blades of grass, unmoving as the wind blew by. It was peaceful here. Much unlike the scene they’d left behind at the bed and breakfast. She guessed that that was why he chose this place.

“But maybe you’re not a decent human being.” Sovay turned her face back at the man to gape at his audacity. “I mean, you’ve been in town, what, just short of a week now? You say you’re here to see Sam Keyes, and you just happen to show up the same time people start showing up dead. And all you seem to care about is giving us bullshit information and keeping your secrets to youself. Now I’m sure you can understand why that’s suspicious to me, can’t you?” She’d raised her chin during this, a scowl marking her once bewildered face. “Now I’m going to need you to be honest with me, Ms Martin, and this is the last time I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. What’re you doing in Senoia?”

She ironed on the look on her face, hoping to only give him what answers she wanted to, before taking a breath and replying, and picking up and easy back-and-forth. “I’m here to see Sam.”

“Why did he call you?”

“He wanted me to meet Beth.”

“When did you see Amy Harris last?”

“At the bar last night with Andrea. I left before she did but Andrea was still there with her.”

“You didn’t see her early this morning?”

“No, just Detective Dixon,” she enunciates.

“Daryl?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Daryl. He was sneaking out of Andrea’s room early this morning.” She smirked and continued. “I would’a figured you’d know that, since you’re partners n’ all.”

“It didn’t come up,” he frowned. “What do you know about the Butcher?”

She froze and the grin fell from her face. “I already told you that.”

“But I wanna hear you tell me again,” he said, no-nonsense.

She sighed again, hoping he wouldn’t try to dig deeper. “He killed a bunch of women in Louisville, one of which happened to be my best friend. He probably stalked her for awhile, broke in a stole things. I shot him once as he was trying to get away.”

“And?”

“And what? That’s it.” She was getting frustrated now.

“I know you know more that you’re not telling me.”

“Like what?! What do you want me to say here, Detective? I don’t know any more than what I’ve already told you.”

“There were phone calls, missing jewelry, gifts. You all thought it was connected to Tomas before she died. Why is that? If it was all about the Butcher killing your roommate then why was it all of _your_ things being messed with?” He watched as she started pacing, knowing that he was staring to get to her. “The calls were made to _your_ phone. It was _your_ necklace that went missing. I looked through the file from the restraining order against Suarez. The pictures of the flowers, the gifts. They were all things placed on _your_ side of the room. Things that _you_ liked. You can’t seriously think I believe that your friend was the Butcher’s intended victim?”

Sovay was panicking. She knew she couldn’t get out of this one.

“Kelsey Daniels just got in his way, didn’t she? Wrong place, wrong time. He was there for _you_ , Ms. Martin, wasn’t he?”

She had started crying at some point. The truth always hurt, that was for sure. It was something she could ignore most days, but not now, when it was being shoved in her face. She was the reason that Kelsey was dead and now everyone would know it too.

“But you walked in on him that night, didn’t you? Caught him in the aftermath. What did he say to you?”

Her head snapped up at his question. “Wh—what?”

“What did he say to you? You caught him in the act and had time to pull out a gun and take a shot at him. What did he say to you?”

Sovay looked down at the ground, back towards the stupid cows, anywhere that wasn’t the detective’s eyes. She did not want to go through this again, _not again._

“Ms. Martin. Sovay.” Rick’s tone became soothing, convincing. Oh this guy was good. “What did he say to you?”

By this time she was ugly crying and she knew it. Tears streaking down her face, snot building up in her nose. _Not again, not again._ She’d spent so many years building up a defense to her past and now one trip to Georgia was ruining it all. “He—“ She looked up at Rick, unexpectedly finding him much closer than she’d thought. At some point she’d knelt on the ground, her knees crumbling along with all those metaphorical walls. And surprisingly he was down here too, balanced on one knee and watching her expectantly. “He said—” She took a deep breath. “He said ‘I’ll be back for you, you fucking slut.’”

Rick nodded, committing the words to his memory before asking his next question. “Is that what Richard Cassidy said to you too?”

Sovay’s eyes nearly bugged out of her skull at his inquiry. “How—how did you know that?”

“Just a lucky guess.” He looked at her meaningfully. “I figured that a killer who came out of hiding for you and Sam might have something to do with your past.”

“And Rebecca Wallace.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Who?”

Sovay sniffed her nose and wiped at her eyes. “Rebecca. She lived a few towns over from us, growing up. She was two years older than me.” She sniffed again trying to gain control of herself. “He—Dick got her too, before me. She was the first one to say something to the police. But then—” she stopped, knowing that speaking her next few words out loud would make them true, something she’d been avoiding since the Butcher first showed up in Louisville.

“But what, Sovay?”

“But then I saw on the news, at school. Rebecca Daniels’ body was found outside her apartment on Preston Street in pieces.” She gasped in air trying not to cry again. “I didn’t even know she—she had moved away. Not—not until.”

Rick finally put the rest of the pieces together in his head. “So Rebecca Daniels was one of Richard Cassidy’s first victims?”

“She was his first,” she sniffled, “both times.”

The detective nodded. “And the other girl?”

“Heather Aldridge. She went missing from her parents house in Indiana right around the time the Butcher disappeared.”

“Which means that—”

“He’s here because of me.” Rick looked at her taken aback at her outburst. “He’s here because I’m the only one left.”


	13. Thirteen

Sovay ripped the dress off of the hanger and stuffed it into her bag, not caring that it would be wrinkled the next time she pulled it out. She ran to the bathroom next, sweeping her items across the counter with her arm and into the bag. She also reached over and grabbed a towel or two, silently apologizing to Dale for stealing as she shoved them in the duffel.

Glancing around the room in one last quick sweep, Sovay threw a handful of twenties on the night stand and walked out the door, sending a text to Sam to meet her at the diner. She nearly leapt out of her own skin when a deep voice spoke up behind her.

“Goin’ sumwhere?”

Sovay startled, dropping her phone out of her hands and her bag slid from her shoulder. “Jesus Dixon. Warn a girl next time.”

He did what constituted as a laugh in his book, and stepped forward, uncrossing his arms. “Tha’ was my warnin’,” he replied, looking her up and down. “Rick said ya mi’ run. Must been a’ in’trestin’ conversashun.”

Sovay hiked the bag back up on her shoulder and squinted at him. “I would’ve figured he’d told you about it.”

“Oh ‘e did.” His lip twitched up in a grin as her face fell. “Tha’s why ah’m ‘ere.” He reached across the open space putting his hand on the strap of her bag, pulling it off her arm and onto his. “Cumm’on.”

Daryl walked down the stairs leaving Sovay to stare at his back. She hoped he could feel her annoyance seeping into his skin. But since the man with all her possessions. including her keys, she had no choice but to follow him. 

She bent down to retrieve her cell phone from where it had fallen near a vase in the hall, but when she pulled her hand away something caught her eye. “Daryl!” she called as she scooted the vase away from the wall to get a better look. “DARYL!”

“What? Jesus, girl, ah’m righ’ here. Wha’ that fuck ya yellin’ like that for?”

Sovay tugged the vase a little further, leaving room for her to look at the tiny object behind it.

“Look.”

He crouched down next to her and peered down at the crushed mermaid necklace.

“Shit. Is that Amy’s?”

* * *

Tyreese placed the phone back on it’s receiver and turned towards Rick. “Her story checks out, boss. That was the sheriff in Indiana. Confirmed that Rebecca Daniels, Heather Aldridge and Sovay Martin were the girls assaulted by Richard Cassidy. Rebecca and Heather were both 17, and Sovay was 15 at the time.”

Rick nodded as he took the information in. “And Sam Keyes found out about it and attacked Cassidy.”

“Yeah,” Tyreese replied, “The sheriff said they were surprised that Cassidy was still alive when they pulled Keyes off of him. Said he was released from the hospital about a week later and then disappeared.”

“So we’re looking for a guy with facial scarring?” Rick asked?

“Possibly,” Michonne piped in. “If he was beaten as badly as they say, he could’ve gotten severe bone damage. Not to mention it’s been 10 years. He could look completely different now.”

“So the age rendering from that old picture is going to be useless,” Tyresse remarked. “With plastic surgery he could look like anything now.”

The group became silent as the realization set in.

“Daryl will be back with Martin soon right?” asked Michonne. “Maybe she can give us some insights?”

“And Sam,” Rick added. “Martinez went to pick him up.” He sighed for what seemed like the millionth time this week. “Let’s go see what Maggie’s gotten from Andrea.”

He left his office and headed towards the conference room on the other side of the small building. The detective paused at the door, hearing the hushing voices and sobbing from the other side. He knocked lightly and waited for Maggie to exit the room, motioning for her to walk a little ways down the hall and out of ear shot.

“She say anything?”

Maggie just sighed and shook her head. “Not really. Just that Martin has to have something to do with it. As soon as she found out that Sovay is somehow involved that’s all she could focus on. They went out for drinks last night and Andrea left with Daryl. Amy was still at Red’s and Sovay was nowhere to be seen. Well until this morning in front of the B&B, but you know about that.”

“And Dale? He say anything?”

“He’s worried, really worried.”

“I know,” he sighed. “We all are. Amy’s a good kid.”

“She’s only a few years older than Bethy, Rick.”

Another sigh. “I know, I know. Tell them we’re doing what we can.”

“Alright. Tell Zach to let me know when Andrea’s boyfriend gets here. She called him. And maybe keep him out of Daryl’s way. Lord knows what’s gunna happen there.”

Rick huffed. “You got it, Greene.”

* * *

Daryl shook the little baggie in front of him and looked up. “We looked through ‘er room when we firs’ got ‘ere but Andrea said nothin’d be’n moved. Wa’ she wearin’ this las’ nigh’?”

Sovay uncrossed her arms and stepped back so that the detective could get to his feet. “Yeah, I think so. She wears it all the time, that I’ve seen. I think Andrea gave it to her.”

“Yah. For ‘er 18th birthday.” He looked around hallway, scanning for anything else out of place. “If she wa’ wearin’ it at tha bar las’ nigh’ then she musta made it ‘ome ’n got nabbed from ‘ere.”

The young woman froze. “You—you think he was here last night?”

He didn’t miss the way her voice shook or the way her eyes shone in fear. “Must’a been.”

“But—” she had so many thoughts running through her mind, and she could feel her knees start to tremble. Sovay implored the detective, “But why would he take Amy?” She looked down and around her, her breaths becoming heavy. “If he was here, why would he take her? I was—I was right here.”

Daryl stared at the ground for a few seconds before looking into Sovay’s panicked eyes. “‘e want’s ta make ya suffer. Hurt yer friend like when Sam hurt ‘im.”

Sovay’s heart stopped at the thought and breathing became an impossible task, and her vision went blurry. Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes when an idea popped into her head. “Oh god,” she half-whispered, focusing her gaze back in on the burly detective. “I think I might know where Amy is.”


	14. Fourteen

Daryl tried to dial the number on the new smartphone that Rick insisted everyone have while keeping at least one hand on the wheel, but the combination of smooth leather and those tiny fucking numbers that kept turning sideways when his hand would slip on the wheel, was _causing_ his hands to keep slipping, on both the phone and the wheel, and he’d have to jerk it with both hands to actually _stay_ on the road he was very much speeding down and…

_Breathe, Dixon_

It took him a second to realize that he had really _heard_ the words rather than _think_ them. He chanced at look at the woman in the passenger seat, which was a double mistake. Because at the same second he thought, “ _Shit, when’d she go from girl to woman?_ ”, he started swerving off the road again.

“Fuck!” He jerked the wheel to avoid hitting a street sign and the phone fell out of his hand to the floor. “Motherfu—“

A small voice cut him off. “What’s the number?” He been so focused on trying to dial and drive (which he does not recommend at all) that he managed to miss Martin falling into herself. He risked a few glances between her and the road but she was very obviously avoiding his gaze. She was also trying and failing to keep her hands still as she sat in the passenger seat, forcing herself to take deep steady breaths. “Dixon, what’s the numb—“

“Ya alrigh’?

Sovay sent a puff of air out through her nose. “I’m not the one about to run us off the road. What’s the number?” she asked, fingers poised to punch the digits into her phone. He watched her pause, waiting for his answer. When he didn’t, he watched as her eyes found his, imploring him to drop it. “I'm fine. What’s—“

He cut her off reciting the first number he’d really ever cared to memorize, and soon they were waiting for Rick Grimes to pick up his phone. Which of course he didn’t. Daryl took a sharp left turn heading down an old dirt road causing dust to fly up around them, as she dialed again. Daryl’s eyes started to scan the thin line of trees to his left, knowing that the small quarry that they were headed to could be seen from the road, if thee trees weren’t too thick. Which of course they were. 

Sovay was on her fourth call to Rick by the time he picked up, and she sounded like she wasn’t sure of what to say now that he had actually answered. “Oh! Uh…Detective Grimes, this is um, Sovay. Martin that is. I—We, Dixon and I, um—“

“Put it on speak’a,” he interrupted, and she quickly did as he asked. “Rick, th’nk we kno’ where Amy’s at. Headin’ ta tha ole quarry,” He paused as he took another left onto a gravel drive, and Rick tried to get a word in but was cut off. “Meet ya there.” With that Daryl reached over and ended the call.

In just a few seconds Daryl’s old beat up truck burst through the trees and both occupants could see the long unused quarry clearly.

* * *

She was much more jumpy these days, which was saying something, and rightly so. She’d been paranoid for years now, ever since life dealt her more than enough blows at the age of 15. And while it settled itself during the more dull moments of her life, it was quick to pick up again when events warranted it. Like in Louisville. And now. So when Daryl reached his arm over towards her, Sovay instinctively froze up before watching him end the call. She was definitely on edge and while she was fairly certain that Detective Dixon _wouldn’t_ harm her, she still wasn’t entirely sure.

Her gaze was pulled by the sudden increase of sunlight as Dixon’s truck drove past the tree line, and she took in the quarry before her. The sun reflected off the water and the light colored rocks, making them shimmer. _What a beautiful place,_ she thought before her eyes settled on the lake once more, and the object floating in it. The _large_ object, she realized as her heart sank.

Daryl slammed on the breaks just before the edge of the water and hopped out of the truck before she could blink. _Please no,_ she prayed, as she watched the detective begin to swim out to the middle of the pond, but Sovay already knew the truth. 

It could've been hours, or it could’ve been years that Sovay sat frozen in place in the passenger seat of Daryl’s truck watching the man retrieve the body. She could hear the sirens approaching, and eventually saw the red and blue lights of the emergency vehicles as they parked beside her. She knew that multiple people had gotten out of their cars and a few even got into the water to help Dixon. But she couldn't move, couldn’t stop staring, watching as he reached the shore again with what was left of Amy Harris in his arms.

It was them that she finally moved. unbuckled her seatbelt and pulled the level on the door to get out of the car, but still her movements were automatic. All that was running through her mind was _This is my fault, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, Amy._

It was jarring to her then, when as soon as she stood outside of the truck, that she was shoved into the side of it face first, and her arms pulled behind her, her eyes closing as she tried to focus her mind. “Sovay Martin,” said the woman's voice, “you are under arrest for the murder of Amy Harris. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can not afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights as they have been given to you?”

She opened her eyes and blinked, taking in the face of a young woman she had just had dinner with a few days ago. _Had it really just been a few days?_ Maggie continued to look at her expectantly and Sovay remembered that she was supposed to answer a question. However instead of opening her mouth she just nodded her head before being yanked in the direction of a waiting police cruiser. She could feel a particularly branding pair of eyes following her, and she risked a glance in their direction.

Her brown eyes met blue for just a few moments she turned them back to the gravel path ahead of her.

* * *

Sovay shifted again, trying to get comfortable in the hard plastic chair while her hands were cuffed behind her in a most uncomfortable kind of way. Little Bethy’s sister placed her in this chair what seemed like hours ago and most likely was. She was in a interrogation room with a camera, two chairs, one of which she was occupying, a table and a two way mirror. Very little, _practically nothing,_ to keep her busy while she waited. And honestly, she didn’t believe that she had been forgotten, rather, there were just a great many things that needed dealt with and she was the last on their list. So in the time since the eldest Greene sister put her in this room, Sovay had already counted all the ceiling tiles, recited an entire Theory of a Deadman album in her head, and was currently trying to find shapes in the design of the tile of the floor.

She was actually so focused on whether those few small specks looked more like a duck or a rabbit that she was startled at the opening of the door. In walked none other than Rick Grimes and another woman she had yet to meet. The dark-skinned woman with long dreadlocks, like Daryl Dixon, did not really look like a cop, but she had intense, calculating eyes that rivaled his. She didn’t say a word as she walked to stand in the corner of the room underneath the camera, but her partner left out a long, loud sigh as he took the seat across from her.

He looked exhausted, Sovay noticed, and she wasn’t really surprised. There was a murderer loose in his town after all. 

He spent a good minute scanning her face for any clues into her thoughts, but she knew that her face was just as inquisitive as his, attempting to share nothing but find everything. The hair at the back of her neck prickled knowing that there were more than just the two pairs of eyes that she could see watching her. Another sigh brought her focus back to the man seated across from her as he opened his mouth to ask her a question.

“Do you want a lawyer?” he asked. She shook her head and he continued. “How did you know that Amy would be at the quarry?”

She blinked before giving him an answer. “I didn’t.”

He sighed again, the long week he’d had already making him lose his patience. “Then why did you lead Detective Dixon there?”

She rolled her eyes at the man, knowing that he already knew that that’s not what happened. “I told Dixon that she was probably near some quiet, outlying body of water. Like a pond, or a lake like the one from the first victim. Somewhere shocking. He came up with the quarry.”

“What lead you to think it would be another body of water? Eliza Morales was found behind a gas station outside of town.” This from the woman in the corner who finally decided to speak.

Sovay turned her attention away from Grimes and placed it on the woman, intent of answering her directly. “It’s the same pattern from Louisville. Remote body of water, near the shore. Behind a local business. Remote body of water, in the water. Next will be in front or inside of a business. Then you’ll have to drag the rivers and lakes, he’ll weigh her down in the water. In a park or a neighborhood. Another in the water, probably a pool or somewhere popular. In someone’s front lawn, probably your own, he loves mocking people. In front of the police station but soaking wet like she had been in water. And then…well then Kelsey was killed and left in our dorm room.” She paused for a moment letting her words sink in. “Can we get rid of the cuffs? They’re very annoying.”

“No," Rick said, not missing a beat.

“You just listed 10 locations,” the woman in the corner commented. “I thought there were 11 victims.”

“There were,” she stated, eyes falling to the tabletop in front of her, as she lost some of her nerve. Her eyes lifted to the man across from her, and Sovay told him, instead of the woman who asked the question. “One of the girls was five and a half months pregnant.” They knew this of course, she was sure, but they were testing her. Trying to get her to slip up and say something incriminating.

There was a pause in the room before Rick started talking again. “Where were you after left the bar last night.”

Again, answering questions they probably already knew the answers to. “I went out back in the alley to get some air. I talked to Dixon for a few minutes during his smoke break, and then I went inside, said my goodbyes and headed back to Dale’s. It was probably…10? 10:30?”

“Why so early?”

“I don’t like staying out too late anymore. I’m sure you’ve noticed, there’s a killer in town,” she replied flatly.

“And you just went back to your room, alone?” the woman questioned. “Didn’t take someone from the bar back with you, didn’t go anywhere else?”

Sovay rolled her eyes at this one. “Like I said. Killer. This town. I’m not about to pick someone up. Not to mention that I have a horrible track record when it comes to my dating life.” She hesitated before continuing but decided that it was fair game. “If you want to know about who was taking someone home from the bar talk to your buddy Daryl. Or Andrea, I guess, since it’s her home. Well, her grandfather’s home. Business. Hotel. You know what I mean.”

It was like she could _feel_ the collective eyeroll from everyone present, including the one’s she couldn't see.

Just as the detective across from her opened his mouth to either ask her another question, or tell her to stay on topic, there was a commotion from the other side of the glass. All three occupants of the room turned their heads towards the noise in surprise, the woman in the corner raising an eyebrow as the sounds grew closer, and a very angry blonde woman burst into the room. She quickly scanned the room before her gaze fell on Sovay and she screamed, “YOU!” and then lunged towards the cuffed girl. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SISTER!?”

The same time that Andrea started towards Sovay everyone else in the room moved as well. Rick jumped up to hold the irate woman back as Maggie, Daryl and another man rushed in behind her. Sovay jumped out of her chair and backed away as best as she could, and Michonne finally moved out of the corner to stand protectively in front of the young woman. 

Grimes was trying to calm the flailing woman down but she continued to yell, demanding answers, as both he and Maggie tried to get her out of the room. Until Sovay spoke up. “I didn’t _do_ anything.”

It seemed as Andrea lost her fight with that statement, at least the physical manifestation of it. She glared daggers at the woman as if there weren’t 2 people standing between them. “You are a _liar._ You were the last person who saw Amy last night. You weren’t even there when I left and you know _nothing_ about me. _You_ killed my sister. You _murdered her_ and left her in that lake,” she finished off with a sob.

The room went quiet at the blonde woman's exclamation and Sovay took the opportunity to look around the room. Mostly at the stern, clean-cut, politican-y looking man that certainly couldn’t be her public defense attorney. She also noticed that Andrea’s left hand was shinier that it was last night. _Ahhh,_ she thought, _this must be the fiance._ She couldn’t help herself. She really couldn’t. “Let me just clarify,” Sovay started with a grin on her face. “Are you more upset that your sister is dead, or that you boyfriend over there,” she motioned towards the man as best as she could with the cuffs still on, “now knows about you going home from a bar with someone else?”

Andrea lunged again, and this time Rick, Maggie and Michonne practically had to draw her out of the room screaming, fiancee following behind after giving Sovay a scary look. Daryl stayed behind and shut the door as soon as they were gone crossing his arms and staring her down. Sovay used her foot to right her chair that had tripped over when she stood earlier and sat back down, Dixon watching her every move with hawk eyes.

“Was that necessary?”

Her eyes flicked up to his and she shrugged. “Gotta get the upper hand while you can, right?” 

The door opened once again and Rick Grimes walked back in, alone this time. When Daryl moved to walk out the door his partner put a hand up stopping him. “Michonne’s got it.”

_Probably don’t want him and the boyfriend in the same room,_ Sovay thought to herself.

Daryl took up Michonne’s place in the corner of the room, along with her stance and calculating eyes. Rick sat down in the chair he occupied before, and sighed, running a hand across his mouth before speaking. “Was that absolutely necessary?” she was asked for the second time.

Daryl grunted from the corner but that was the only response that was given.

Rick sighed again but continued on. “I’m just going to ask you straight, because I don’t have the time and I’m running out of patience, here. Did you kill Amy Harris?”

And Sovay answered him in the most straight-foward way she could. “Nope.”

“Did you kill Eliza Morales or Sofia Peletier?”

“Nope.”

“Do you know who did?”

“Yes and no,” she answered shrugging.

“The Butcher?”

“Yes.”

He sighed for the umpteenth time. _Dude really needs a break,_ she thought. “But you have no idea who that is,” he said as more of a statement rather than a question.

“Oh I have an idea,” she expressed, “just not one that is going to be at all helpful.”

The two people sitting at the table stared each other down. Sovay could also feel the pair of eyes from the corner watching her, but she refused to give in and look away from the man across from her. 

“So far your stories have checked out, but I still think there are some things you’re hiding from us Ms. Martin. I’m not charging you with anything right now but I can still hold you for 48 hours.” He looked away from her finally and nodded to the man in the corner, as he stood up from the table to leave the room.

Dixon moved towards her as if to help her up from the table and escort her, she would assume, to wherever they were going to hold her for the next two days. “Where’s Sam?” she asked before her interrogator left the room.

He looked over his shoulder at her, and she could tell that the patience he spoke of earlier was tapped out. “Good question.”

* * *

Sovay walked down the sparsely lit hall with who could arguably be her best friend and worst enemy at the moment. Friend, because so far, he's accepted everything she’s told he with little to no outward questions. Enemy, because, for whatever reason, she’s found herself _wanting_ to tell him these things. Which could up up being very, very dangerous.

So when they reached the cage that would be her home for the next few days, and he locked her in and motioned for her to turn around so he could unlock the cuffs without a single word, she felt the _need_ to say _something_ to him. “Sam—he’s probably with Beth, or something,” she said, turning around to face him.

He looked at her with a blank face, but she could see through his eyes that he was debating on whether or not to tell her something. Eventually one side won out. “Tha’ was tha firs’ place we look’d.”

Her brow furrowed. She’d only been in town for a few days but it seemed like those two were always together. So it was strange to hear that they weren’t. “But she’s alright?” she asked with genuine concern. Despite the little blonde being very _on_ what seemed like all the time, she and her family had already wormed a place into her heart. A place normally only reserved for her parents and Sam, so she was both irritated and mystified that it happened, but it did.

“Ya, she’s fi’ne. Hershel's lock’d ‘er up ’n tha house.”

“Good,” she said and she meant it.

He looked at her differently then, similar to the way he had at the dinner table what seemed like ages ago. Eyes boring into her like he was trying o read her mind, to _truly_ figure her out. It was unnerving. So she did what she could to get him to stop, what she did best: ask inappropriate questions.

“Was she like the others?” He blinked like he was coming out of a daze, so she expanded on her inquiry. “Amy,” she clarified, “was she…cut like the others.” 

Daryl’s eyes narrowed in on her doing the exact opposite thing that she had intended. _Great_. “‘Ow’d ya kno’ ‘bout tha’?” he asked, and she gave him a puzzled look before he continued. “Firs’ meetin' with Rick ya mention’d it. Bu’ tha’s not sumthin’ that was e’vr told ta tha papers. Not ‘ere, not L’llville. How’d ya kno’?”

She froze realizing her mistake, eyes going wide. Clearly she had admitted to knowing something that she wasn’t supposed to know. When she took too long to answer him he went on. “Ya friend in L’llville, was’n’ cut up li’ tha others. Wha’ makes ya th’nk ‘e did ‘er too?”

_Damn him,_ she thought. She hated thinking about that night. The night that ruined her life in more ways than one. She looked down, not being able to look at him as she spoke though she could feel his eyes on her. “Kelsey wasn’t—” she started, “I interrupted him. I wasn’t supposed to be back in the room for a few more hours.”

“’N ya shot at ‘im?” She nodded. “Don’t essplain why ya kno’ they git cut up, put ba’k tageth’er wrong.”

She turned away from him then and paced the small space she was given, silently freaking out, trying to decide how to tell him without exposing herself more. An impossible task it’d seem. At that conclusion and huffed out a breath of air and turned to face him once again. 

“You have photos from the crime scenes, right? All of them?” He nodded. “So you know what the cuts look like. The missing piece.”

She doesn’t even wait for him to answer, just turns away before she can see…anything…on his face, and starts pacing again. But she misses the way his brow furrows before his eyes go big in realization. “I thought maybe, maybe the killings in Louisville were just a coincidence, Rebecca Daniels was just a coincidence.” She took in a heavy breath. “But then the night Kelsey died, after I shot him and he got away, I _saw it._ On her. Just like—” Sovay was completely turned away from him then, but looked over her shoulder before clenching her fists and then reaching to lift up her shirt.

She could feel him, once again, looking at her, looking at the spot, long since healed, that Richard Cassidy had left on her body years ago. A two-by-three inch piece of skin just _missing._

She was trembling now, letting him look at her most vulnerable place, and his gaze felt like fire.. “I didn’t tell you partner everything, about what he said to me that night, or before. He said—he,” she took in another gulp of air. “He said ‘I’ll be back for you, slut. Maybe then I’ll cut you to pieces.’” She started rambling then. “And then I—I just had to know. If they all had it. Like me. I broke into a conference room when they brought me in for questioning and I saw all the pictures. Of what he did to them. The missing piece. Did you know that he does that while they’re still alive? Rapes them, and then skins them before killing them and—” She finally dropped her shirt back down after letting him have a good long look, but couldn't find it in herself to turn back to face him. “He takes a trophy. He has one of me too.”

Sovay took in a deep breath, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders, and she turned to face the detective but kept her eyes to the ground. “When they brought me to the station after Kelsey died, they left me alone and I—I broke into an office, er, conference room. There were pictures everywhere, of the girls. Of this,” she said motioning towards her back. “That’s when I _knew._ ” Her eyes flicked up to his as she took in another shaky breath. “When the found me in there they were pissed, said I compromised evidence. Some of it went missing and they thought I did it. That’s why I was a suspect. But I didn’t take anything and—” Sovay paused to shake her head and she looked down. “The only reason I found that room is because it was right next to the one they put me in. You needed a keycard but it was unlocked, the door was cracked open.” 

Her eyes met his again, hoping that he would pick up the meaning of what she said next. “That room was on the top floor of a 4-story building. There’re officers all over the building and the only way onto the top floor is through a checked desk once you step off the elevator, and a code-locked gate. You have to either be with an officer, or _be_ an officer. And I was the only civilian up there that day.”

The weight of her words sunk in and both of them stood frozen in place.

_Shit,_ he thought, _no wonder she’s so jumpy around cops. The Butcher was one of them._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> xoxo


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